A Demon Among Devils
by The Crimson Lord
Summary: Igor had asked him to die for the world. She would ask him to die for her. Problem was, he didn't really like dying, not for a second time, at least.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He was not sure how Elizabeth had done it. One moment he was sealed in stone, his mind drifting in the vast void of nothingness, and then he had been here, alive, breathing, and confused. Then he had seen the white haired woman, staring at him with a sad smile on her lips. It had taken a second for him to realize, to comprehend, and by the time he did, she was gone, as fast as she had appeared.

He searched for her, but the location of the Velvet Room refused to disclose itself to him. He searched for the others as well, but like Elizabeth, they too seemed to have vanished. It was as though they had never existed in the first place. Not even Mitsuru's conglomerate, the Kirijo Group, existed, and that had troubled him most of all. People could disappear, but not a multi-billion company that spanned nearly every continent.

Reality reared its head. The truth was there to be seen. Steadily he came to accept the fact that the world he knew, the world he had died to protect, no longer existed. It had been a bitter pill to swallow. One could not easily forget the Dark Hour, the unending levels he had climbed in that accursed tower, the many faces of Nyx as he ascended to battle her. Sometimes he wondered if it had all been some elaborate dream, a figment of his imagination, and he had merely woken up. But then he would call for him, shattering his mind with the Evoker, and _he_ would always answer, proof before his eyes, skulled helm bowed in deference.

And he was not the only one. Others came to him, some that he remembered as being his and others drawn to him by the strength of his Arcana.

They were the only proof he had. The only evidence that reminded him of who he was, _what_ he had been, and he clung to them like a drowning man would a clutch a raft.

Still, life had to go on. He eventually settled in the place Elizabeth had brought him to, surmising that there was something he had to do, some task he had to perform before he could go back. When the months passed and nothing out of the ordinary happened, his hope had dwindled and he resorted to working odd jobs to support himself, earning enough to rent a small apartment in a middle class section of the city. His basic needs met, the only problem that was left was boredom. He needed something to keep his thoughts off the past life that he led, or otherwise his mood would grow dark and his mind would wander.

He solved that by attending the local high school, and despite the material that was presented to him was almost word-for-word the same as that of Gekkoukan High's, he still enjoyed it. It brought a sense of normalcy to him, attending this school, with the familiar chatter of students and the buzz of everyday activity. It gave him a feeling of belonging, and though the faces were different, he could at least pretend he was one of them.

And in the rare instances his jobs gave him time to spare, he would always find a seat in the school's library, his headphones over his ears, a book in front of him, listening to the same track as the sun set.

* * *

She reminded him of Mitsuru.

From her red, flowing hair to the almost aristocratic way she carried herself. It was an uncanny resemblance, and it was for that reason he did his best to avoid Rias Gremory.

There were differences, of course. She was never as cold as Mitsuru when he first joined SEES, and though that cold eventually disappeared, it still did not compare to the warmth of the President of the Occult Research Club. As far as he could tell, Rias was kind to everyone, compassionate almost, to a degree. She would reply to any student, whether they be freshman or senior, and help with sincerity in any task presented to her. It was within her nature, he guessed. Perhaps that was why she was considered to be one of Kuoh Academy's Two Great Ladies. He couldn't imagine Mitsuru ever displaying the same amount of passion, not in public anyways.

But then again, if she did, he probably wouldn't have fallen for her, and her, him.

He still remembered that bumpy, lonely ride on the back of her motor scooter, as odd a trip as the request that led to it. She had plied him with questions, and it was halfway through their journey that he divined its true purpose. He had answered to the best of his ability, and still the trip back had been awkward. He had succeeded though, realizing it at first when the Persona he could summon from the Empress Arcana grew stronger, and then a week later when Mitsuru cornered him in a classroom and kissed him.

It was that scene alone that played in his mind over and over again when he saw Rias, and the image pained him; dangling the one thing in front of him that he desired most, yet was unable to attain. So he avoided Rias, going so far as turning away when she approached or slipping outside into the hallway when they were in the same room. The memories were still too raw, too painful, and he did not like having them.

Unfortunately, his efforts at evasion did not go unnoticed. He was not like the other boys, who immediately went wide-eyed and became tongue-tied when the school beauty gave them a look. In the times he could not avoid her, he would at least give her a polite nod of acknowledgment, and focus on whatever he had been doing before. That apparently set him out from the rest, though it did not surprise him. It had been much the same with Yukari and Mitsuru at Gekkoukan High.

The frequent slips he gave her when the redhead came to talk to him could not be misconstrued as anything else but avoiding her. Still, Rias had not given up, and the more he avoided her the more she persisted in finding him. In the few months he had arrived at this school, it had almost become a game to them, with him hiding and her seeking. It was a game that required patience, and he was confident that he could win for he had patience in ample supply. That, and from the recent sour looks she would send him after spending a lunchtime of searching only to discover he had been in his homeroom all along, told him he was close to victory.

He regretted he could not at least be friends with her. She just resembled Mitsuru in too many ways for him to even consider the possibility.

* * *

He did not consider Issei Hyoudou a friend, though from the way the perverted boy treated him it was clear Issei considered him one. He had tried to make himself scarce but like Rias, the boy would seek him out. Unlike Rias though, Issei could actually find him, and long were the hours he suffered as he was regaled with tales of harems, women, and womanly body parts. It seemed that was all Issei could talk about, and he had a sneaking suspicion the boy had not a clue about what a real relationship was like.

He had experience with Mitsuru, and an inkling of what would have happened if he had tried the harem route when he announced his relationship to the rest of SEES. From the way Fuuka suddenly excused herself and the fact that Yukari would not speak with him for the next three days spoke volumes of how badly he had missed the signs. He had been so focused on strengthening the bonds of their Arcana that he had not noticed the inevitable feelings that arose as a result.

He had felt like an ass afterwards too.

He apologized, of course, and Fuuka at least had been fast to forgive. She required him merely to taste some of her cooking, and he had survived that only with some mild food poisoning. He considered that a victory compared to some of her more… exotic dishes. Yukari had not been so lenient. He had suspected she had liked him from the very start, but either had not the opportunity or courage to tell him. Ever since that day the girl had been noticeably distant to Mitsuru, and though Yukari had always made sure that it would never affect her combat performance, the awkwardness between the two still lingered.

Issei, however, was blissfully unaware of all this. From what scatterbrained ideas the perverted boy had let slip, it was clear that he thought that everything would come together flawlessly. It was as though he didn't factor jealousy, envy, or even simple human emotion into the equation.

He could not bring himself to hate the boy, however, nor dislike him for that matter. For all his shortcomings, Issei was still a decent person at heart, and possessed an admirable streak of loyalty. He would not leave his friends, no matter the odds, and he could respect that, at the very least.

It reminded him of Junpei, oafish and clumsy as he was, the Magician Arcana was still steadfastly devoted to his friends, and the obstacles they had overcome together merely added to that loyalty.

Nevertheless, Issei's constant talk of women and harems still irked him to no end, if not from the impossibility of it, then from the sheer frequency of it. He had been honestly glad when the boy found a girlfriend, happy that he would have some relief from Issei's inane jabbering. That relief had lasted for all of one day. And then Issei had come back from what was supposed to be his first date and from the stunned look on his face he knew something had gone wrong. The melancholy affected the boy for weeks, and for some reason their roles had been reversed, with Issei being the one to avoid him in the halls and actively retreating from his presence when they met.

It was a time of relative peace for him, but to his surprise, he did not enjoy it.

And then the boy had come to him, as suddenly as he had disappeared, anger on his face instead of sadness.

"What would you do, Arisato-san," Issei had asked him, "if one of your friends was in danger but your other friends said it was too dangerous to rescue her?"

The question had been so out of the ordinary, so unlike Issei, that he had actually set down the book he had been reading to give the boy a look of pure disbelief.

"I mean it was me who got her into trouble in the first place, so I can't just leave her, you know," the boy had continued on, unmindful of the stare he was receiving, "I know Gremory-san told me I shouldn't go, but damn it, it was my fault to begin with!"

What happened to the usually boisterous, cheerful Issei that he had grown used to- Wait, Rias? What did Rias have to do with this?

"I can't stand the thought of her suffering in the hands of that… that bitch," the boy spat out and he raised an eyebrow in response, surprised at the vehemence in his tone, "I need to help her right away! What would you do Arisato-san?"

He considered the situation. From the limited information that had just been dumped onto him, caution would clearly be the wisest choice. He told the pacing boy as much.

"You're right!" Issei pounded a fist into his palm, "I should be cautious about telling Gremory-san what I'm going to do and rescue Aria right away!"

…

That… was not what he had said at all.

The boy flashed him a confident grin.

"Thanks Arisato-san! I'm going to do as exactly as you say!"

Wait… what?

And with that, Issei had spun on his heel and left, his gait so fast that it might as well have been running.

He had a sinking feeling that the boy was about to do something incredibly foolish and incredibly stupid. With a sigh, he had risen from his feet and after a backwards, longing look to the unfinished book still on the table, he had stepped after Issei, and hastened to follow.

* * *

The church he recognized. He had walked by it a few times on his way to school, though he had never gone in. That was about to change, however. The sounds of combat had faded, but there was still something fundamentally wrong about this place, this chapel, that it made his skin crawl.

He wrapped a hesitant hand around the handle of the door. The last time he had pried in matters not his own, SEES had been the result. But Issei was in there. He had seen the boy charge headlong into the church, and when he waited a good thirty minutes and the pervert had still not appeared, he had to conclude that Issei had bitten off more than he could chew.

Grimacing inwardly, he jerked the door open, and after a cursory glance of the surroundings, his suspicions were proven to be correct.

He saw the rows of wooden pews that should have been arranged in neat rows scattered haphazardly over the antechamber. He saw black marks charred across the walls, evidence of some great fire or an equally great battle, or perhaps both. He saw shards of colorful glass strewn across the floor, the remains of the chapel's many stained glass windows. And then he saw her, garbed in the robes of a priestess, chained to the crucifix, her head hung low, locks of blonde hair dangling limply from her crown. He saw Issei too, prone on his belly, body battered and bruised, lying in front of the crucifix and the girl that was bound to it.

He took a step into the chamber. It did not go unnoticed. Issei grunted and stared at him from the one eye that was not swollen shut. Recognition dawned in it, along with panic.

"Arisato-san! What are you doing here!?" he groaned, "You have to get out of here! Run! It's too dangerous!"

Dangerous? Then he saw the figures, three of them, clad in black. A bearded man, lounging against the church's walls, arms across his chest. A blonde girl who could not have been more than eleven, sitting on a table, dainty legs kicking childishly against the wood. A dark-haired beauty in a revealing dress, face set into a mask of boredom, draped over a chair. He knew what they were. The black wings gave everything away. And then the fourth figure had shown herself, and he suddenly understood Issei's change of behavior.

The Fallen Angel that wore Yuma Amano's face smiled at him, seemingly unperturbed at his intrusion. The gathering motes of light that slowly became a spear in her hand spoke otherwise.

"Die," was all she said.

The strike was been so sudden, so swift, that even in his heightened state of alertness it would have still been impossible to dodge. The spear of light rammed into his chest, passed through his flesh, and hurled him from his feet. He was dimly aware of Issei calling out his name before he crashed into the pews behind, knocking them aside and landing amongst splintered wood. That stunned him, and it took a moment for him to regain his senses. When he did, it was to discover that Issei's former girlfriend was gloating at the boy.

"Why are you doing this!?" the boy gasped out as from the spot where he lay, "Damn it Raynare, even if you're not human you still don't have to hurt other humans!"

"Why, you ask?" the woman's face was stretched into a leer, "It is precisely because you are a human! You are mere insects to be crushed and exterminated! You are nothing! No, less than that! Less than nothing! You and your shitty devil friends!"

He grunted as his vision finally stopped swimming. With difficulty, he stood back up, though he could not stop the slight swaying that accompanied the motion. He blinked when the smell of burnt flesh entered his nostrils, and looked down.

Oh.

A fist-sized hole in his chest greeted him, faint trails of smoke emitting from the grisly wound. He blinked again, and then picked at it. Bits of cauterized flesh fell to the floor. Then, he shoved a hand through it and looked over his shoulder, discovering that he could see his own fingertips wiggling from the hole in his back.

How gruesome.

"You missed," the young girl with blonde curls complained, eying him from her spot perched on the table with distaste.

He realized he had become the center of attention, and hastened to look away when Raynare gave him a thoughtful glance

"No I didn't," the Fallen Angel pouted, "I hit him," and pointed to the wound with an elegant finger.

"What are you doing, Arisato-san!" Issei suddenly cried out, his voice ridden with pain, "Get out of here! Hurry, before they can catch you! I'll try and hold them off!" to his surprise, the boy actually managed to half-rise before a long, slender leg planted a spiked heel on his shoulder and slammed him back down.

"I don't know how you survived that, human," Raynare cocked her head to the side, ignoring the struggling form she had effectively pinned, "You should be dead. I aimed for your heart."

And she had aimed well. The spear had incinerated everything in his chest cavity, his heart included.

"Oh well. As they say, second time's the charm."

Light erupted from her palm, and he could actually see it, the light materializing and shaping into the lance. She hurled it at him with a contemptuous flick of her hands.

This time he was ready, and dodged the incoming projectile, wincing as the spear hissed past his face and embedded itself into the wall behind.

"Not bad," he glanced up, to see Raynare staring at him with an approving smile, "You're much less pathetic than this one," for emphasis, she twisted her heel and beneath her, Issei cried out in pain as the spike dug deeper into his flesh.

And then the third spear had come, and he barely avoided impalement by rolling to the side.

"This is so much better!" the woman seemed ghoulishly pleased, and he frowned when he noticed that the other Fallen in the room were watching him with interest now, "So much better! Oh, why couldn't you been the one with the Sacred Gear? You would have made the hunt so much more fun! Poor Issei here just let me kill him," the boy in question let out a sob of frustration, but could do nothing more, "Can you believe that? The idiot just let me kill him! Just like that! It was so easy, but it wasn't _fun_! I want to have fun! I want to enjoy the kill!" Raynare raised both her arms, and where only single spears had been summoned before, now there were a dozen; gleaming shafts of light that circled around their master's head, _"So let us have fun!"_

The volley hurtled towards him, and he only had time to hurl himself behind a pew before the lances buried themselves into the floor where he had stood a bare instant before.

"This is how it should be!" the insane woman cackled, "This is how things should have been! Lesser beings like you should scutter and scrape before us like the insects you are! We are your superiors! We are your betters! We are gods compared to you, and we will judge you for your crime of existing!"

He halted. He had been judged before. When he faced the rotting, decrepit form of Nyx, and had been found wanting. When the Moon descended to Earth, and had threatened the extinction of all mankind. And when Erebus battered against _his_ seal, demanding to fuse itself with Nyx to bring about the end of the world. He had been judged. _He did not like to be judged_.

He rose from his cover, defiant. The Fallen let out another mocking laugh.

"Stopped hiding, have we? Given up?"

This time, he did not look away, and instead stared back into the woman's violet eyes.

"Such resistance," Raynare whispered, an expression of pure sadism appearing on her face, "Such insolence. I am going to break you. I am going to make you beg to be ended. I am going to draw out your suffering until your entire world is nothing but agony!"

He felt the sudden stab of pain, and looked down to his shoulder, where a new hole had been created. He took a reflexive step back and glared up at the Fallen.

"Oops," Raynare's features twisted into a countenance of exaggerated innocence, "I guess I couldn't control myself."

The numbness that came from his shoulder told him his left arm would no longer function. No matter. He still had one more. And with that arm he reached into his pocket, fingers digging until they wrapped around the cool grip in a comforting hold.

He pulled it out. The woman's eyes shot to it immediately, and contempt shone in those purple irises.

"What is that?" her lips curled, "A gun? You think a mere gun will defeat me?" the sadistic expression returned, "I'll show you the true strength of a Fallen Angel! I'll show you what it means to be judged!"

He looked up to this stunningly beautiful creature, her cruel visage a mocking caricature of the girl she once had been, and he could not help but be repulsed.

He lifted the Evoker to the side of his head, the barrel cool and comforting against his skin.

"What are you doing!?" Issei gasped out, his face stretched into an expression of incredulity, "Stop! Put it down! Just because they're strong doesn't mean we can't beat them! Don't give in!" Raynare silenced him by smashing his face against the floor with a swift kick.

The Fallen Angel let out a giggle.

"Yes. _Yes_. Despair. Tremble. Know that you cannot ever match my power," she licked her lips, "Kill yourself. _Die for me._"

Still she did not comprehend. Did not understand the meaning. He would show her.

He pulled the trigger. There was an instant of weightlessness. The sudden splash of liquid chill entering his mind. Then the familiar sensation of power emanating from within, seeking a way out, begging for release. He let the feeling flow over him, a thin smile spreading across his features.

And deep within his conscience something came from the nothingness.

**I am Thou, and Thou art I.**

Its silver armor shone like the sun, gleaming with the exuberance of a freshly born star.

**I am the Light of Humanity. I am the Illumination of the Soul.**

Steel pinions that were more blades than wings extended over each shoulder, cloaking the figure in a veil of sharpened metal.

**From the Fires of Redemption I am Born. From Thy Mind I have Come.**

A frowning mask hid its face from view, silver like the plate that covered the rest of its body, but nothing could cover the sheer power that radiated from its floating frame.

**I am the Voice of God. I am the Word in His Command.**

The masked face tilted, turning to regard them with almost mechanical precision.

**I am Metatron. **

Then the sword, alight with righteous fire, materialized into its palm.

**And I have Come to Deliver Judgment.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Rias Gremory was, without a better word to describe it, confused.

She should have been in a foul mood. Issei had gone missing. Despite what she had told him, despite the warnings she had given him, the boy had still went. Ever since the Fallen Angels captured Asia and sequestered her away in their hideout, the newest member of her Peerage had been restless. The boy wanted desperately to save the priestess, and Rias was sympathetic to her plight as well as his. Especially his. In fact, she was more than sympathetic. She outright admired his courage and his sense of loyalty to his friends. It had been one of the reasons why she had selected him to be a part of her peerage, after all. That, did not mean however, that she agreed with the way he dealt with things. Being brave was one thing, but being reckless with one's life was another. And charging on his lonesome into the lair of a group of Fallen was definitely in the latter.

She was forced to call upon her peerage, scrambling them in a rescue mission that she hoped would not be too late. Raynare was sadistic, even for one of her kind, and Rias did not doubt for a moment the Fallen Angel would kill Issei if given the chance. She had reminded Issei of that fact, but to her chagrin, the boy did not seem to consider the seriousness of the matter at hand.

They made the trip in record time. Their preparations had been swift, and they arrived at the site of the church, battle-ready and prepared for the worst. What they had seen actually made them gawk, and Kiba, her knight, whistle in appreciation.

The place was leveled. The chapel was almost completely destroyed, with a few standing pillars the only remains of what had once been a complete and undamaged building. Broken shards of glass, splintered pieces of wood, scattered pieces of tiles, all were abundant at the scene. And among the wreckage, they had discovered the bodies, Asia's and Issei's first, but thankfully only unconscious. Both teenagers were slumped against a large crucifix, backs touching the holy edifice, and judging from the severed chains that dangled from the structure's arms, Rias knew exactly how the Fallen had been holding their prisoner captive. The priestess's head was leaning against her rescuer's shoulder, and from a distance, it seemed as though a young couple was merely resting. Had the situation been less dangerous, she would have admitted the sight would have looked cute.

She should have felt relief. More so when they found Raynare and her followers as well, lying where they had fallen, incapacitated without a shadow of a doubt. With such a powerful band of enemies stunned and at her mercy, she should have been glad of the reprieve. But that only brought more questions, especially when _he_ was there too.

They found him sitting on what should have been the steps to the antechamber, near the sleeping forms of Asia and Issei. His posture was slackened, almost lazy, and the headphones she always saw hung around his neck were over his ears instead. There was an alertness to him though, an aura of wariness that prevailed despite the image he gave out. And he had positioned himself facing both the girl and the boy, and if she were to guess, she would have assumed he was guarding them.

He stood up when they approached, mop of unruly hair flopping almost comically as he did so. She did not miss the two burnt holes in his uniform, one center to his chest, the other scorched into the fabric near his shoulder. He saw her looking, and turned imperceptibly to the side, so that both holes would no longer be visible.

She frowned.

He nodded to them, courteously, as though if he had been expected to be there in the first place. Her peerage had not known what to do at that, and just nodded back. She would have found the whole scene amusing had she not been as confused as them.

He had stepped to the side, allowing them access to the unconscious duo. A tilt of her head sent Akeno and Koneko to check up on Issei and the priestess. Kiba, though, stayed by her side, his expression curious as he gazed at the newcomer. When he made no further movements, Rias had turned on her heel to stalk towards the forms of her fallen allies. Akeno met her gaze when she arrived, and inclined her head towards the battered body of Issei. She bit her lip when she saw the newest member of her peerage sporting bruises and cuts all over his skin.

"He was lucky the Fallen like to take their time playing with their victims," her queen said mildly, "Had Raynare lost interest in him, we would have been too late," the black-haired beauty smiled, and a hint of her sadistic side shone through, "Though, this will be a good lesson to him. Provided, of course, that you do not delegate me to punish him later."

Now that was an amusing thought. Akeno would _make sure_ he understood the implications of his actions.

"Do it," she said and turned her attention to the priestess.

"She is healed," Koneko spoke without preamble from her position kneeling by Asia, "but her vitality is low. The Fallen drained her life to power their rituals. She is alive, but only just."

"And the Sacred Gear?"

The former Nekomata frowned. Rias leaned in with interest. She knew from experience her usually cold and aloof rook seldom showed emotion, and when she did, it was almost always because of something that was worth noting.

"It is there… but it is not whole."

"Not whole?" she raised an eyebrow, "Could the Fallen have botched the ritual?"

Koneko shook her head.

"The Sacred Gear, the real one, has been taken out. The one that is inside is a mimicry, a copy."

Rias's eyes widened at her rook's words.

"It is the only thing keeping her alive," Koneko said simply.

"How is that possible?" she questioned. To this, Koneko sent a look in the stranger's direction.

"I am not the one you should be asking for that."

Faint footsteps coming from behind her caused her to turn. Yuuto greeted her with a thin smile and jerked his head back towards the figure standing by his lonesome some distance away.

"Not the talkative type, is he?"

Rias snorted. That was an understatement. From what knowledge she could gleam, bare minimum as it was, the boy did not talk much during or after class. In fact, she couldn't remember him talking at all, at least not when she was present. But then again, he had always done his best to avoid her, something he was very good at she was forced to admit, so she couldn't exactly say she knew what his habits were outside her sphere of influence.

She had suspected at first that she had done some grievous wrong to him when they first met and she had simply not remembered it. But that was not the case, proven by the fact that he would at least acknowledge her presence with a polite nod when a situation arose where he could not excuse himself. It had been immensely frustrating to try and get to the bottom of the reason he treated her so, and were she a normal girl, she would have long given up.

And now he was here, not hiding from her this time, and yet the mystery only grew.

Kiba noticed her questioning look, and his features hardened slightly.

"The Light is strong here. It is everywhere. I can sense it seeping into the very ground. Whoever took down the Fallen was well-versed in the High Arts of the Heavens."

Her gaze flickered towards the boy, who was still facing away from them. The knight saw her eyes glancing at his back, and he shook his head.

"He is covered in the Light. But then so is everything else here."

"So we cannot be certain?"

"No, not unless we choose to force him to reveal himself," the sword-user let a grim smile cross his face, "Though I am not averse to the suggestion."

Rias mulled it over in her head. Direct confrontation was a possibility. She certainly had the numbers, though with angels, one could never be sure what divine weapon they hid until they chose to reveal it themselves. And that was assuming he was one, an angel, and though the area around them was saturated with holy power, the idea that he had been a seraphim all along while managing to hide right under their very noses was a far-fetched one at best.

"No," she retorted, "Issei is injured, and so is the Holy Maiden. We will take them back with us and recover. If matters come to head, I want my peerage to be at full strength."

Yuuto bowed.

"Of course," he did not quite manage to hide the disappointment in his tone.

Rias grimaced. The Church had done heinous things to her knight in their quest to create wielders for the Holy Swords. He had never forgiven them for that, and Rias suspected he never will. Kiba would always carry the grudge, and any mention of the Church and the Heavens they served was sure to set his mood dark.

"See to it that Issei and Asia are safe. I have other things to take care of."

The sword-user nodded and moved to assist Akeno, who was already dragging Issei upright. The boy's head lolled limply to the side, and Rias bit down a surge of anger. She would see to it that the Fallen would be punished for harming a member of her peerage.

A few steps later and she arrived at the source of their problems. The unmoving form of Raynare lay before her, head buried into the ground. Around her cracks appeared in the stone, a spider web of fissures that originated from below the depraved angel's body. Something had smashed into her with enormous force, the impact strong enough to create the abrasions on the floor. And that was not all she had suffered through. Rias noted impassively that the woman's arms were stretched out painfully by her sides. She could see the furrows carved in the ground near the Fallen Angel's hands, marred with streaks of blood where the angel had worn her fingernails down to flesh. It was almost as though she was trying to escape, trying to run from some inevitable fate, and by the looks of it, she had not succeeded. The burnt, smoldering wounds on her shoulders further reinforced that fact.

She did not enjoy pain like some of her kind did. She was not like some of the other devils, who enjoyed watching other beings suffer. Nevertheless, she fervently wished the Fallen lying before her had at least felt some of the pain she had inflicted on Asia and Issei.

She called upon her Power of Destruction, feeling the familiar aura of magic rising from within her. It was a pulsating, living thing, her power, the demonic energies eager to be released. She directed it towards the body of Raynare, fully intent on eradicating the evil woman here and now.

A hand on her arm stopped her, and she turned to see _him_, of all people, standing at her side, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from casting the fatal spell. Her eyebrows rose. Somehow, someway, he had moved past by her peerage undetected, despite the considerable battle awareness of her pieces. It was with interest she noted that he refused to look her in the eye, even though the closeness between them demanded it, if not out of necessity, than out of courtesy. His headphones were settled around his neck now, and Rias wondered idly if her conversation with Yuuto had been heard.

And then to her astonishment, he actually spoke.

"They have been judged already," his voice was soft, gentle, but she could hear the steel sheathed beneath.

His gaze was firmly rooted on Raynare.

"They are my enemies," she managed to hide her surprise, "They have hurt friends of mine," Rias nodded towards the limp form of Issei being supported by Akeno and Kiba, "I won't show them any mercy."

The boy merely shrugged. The grip on her arm, however, tightened.

"It is not for you to decide."

She stared at him. Had he actually implied that an enemy who had wondered into her territory, who sought actively to kill one amongst her peerage, whose fate she now held in her hands, should not be judged for their actions? It was a laughable thought. More so, it was a dangerous thought. Devils who did not protect their territory were weak devils, and soon to be dispossessed devils as stronger ones took their territory. That, and Raynare was a dangerous foe, who would no doubt cause further mayhem if let go. She couldn't risk it. She was about to tell him that in as polite a manner as she could when he suddenly turned, and Rias found herself staring into cold, blue eyes.

There was an indifference to them, a certain impassiveness that could easily mislead the casual observer. But she was a devil, and her kind had always been able to glimpse further into humanity's conscience than others. And after gazing into his eyes, what she found was power, pure and unadulterated, veiled behind the passive pupils, hidden not by choice but by design.

He broke the connection as suddenly as he had initiated it, averting his gaze and choosing again to stare at the fallen form of Raynare. A flicker of pain passed across his face, so quick, that Rias was not sure she had seen it.

She swallowed.

"Did you save Issei?" she asked.

He nodded.

"And Asia?"

He nodded again.

"And them?" she gestured to the Fallen littered amongst the ruins, "Were you the one to defeat them?"

He hesitated, as though if considering what to say.

"Not alone," he finally settled on.

She narrowed her eyes. There was truth within those words, but she suspected that he was also omitting something, leaving it out on purpose. She wanted to pry, but knew that now was not the time or the place.

"I should thank you then," Rias began slowly, "Issei should not have run in there by himself. I will make sure he understands how foolish he acted today."

The boy nodded in understanding.

"It is because of my gratitude that I am willing to listen to your suggestion regarding these… angels. But if I find them attacking my friends again, I will not hesitate to destroy them."

His gaze flickered towards the unmoving forms that stood out among the rubble.

"They won't."

It was not the words that convinced her, but the firm finality that was in his tone.

"So be it," Rias watched the boy with interest, gauging his reaction for what she was about to say next, "No doubt you have questions regarding what you saw today and what they," she flung a contemptuous hand towards the Fallen, "are, what we are. I would like to answer them, if you have the time. Tomorrow after school, perhaps? The Student Council Room?"

He seemed to at least contemplate her proposal.

"I will consider it."

It had been a better reply than she expected. At least he was willing to consider meeting face to face instead of avoiding her like he always did. But even if he had chosen the latter route, it wouldn't have mattered. After today's events, she wouldn't let him go without answers, even if it meant tailing him every day.

"Good. I will have Akeno prepare tea for us."

She smiled at his sudden discomfort. He could not back down now without appearing impolite. Her smile grew as he nodded for the final time.

Checkmate.

* * *

He was angry with himself.

He had not expected the combat to move that fast. Months with no towers to ascend, no Dark Hour to infiltrate, no Shadows to fight had dulled his senses to a less than acceptable state. Without the threat of Nyx hanging over his head, he had been lax in his training. There was no reason to anymore, and his combat abilities suffered as a result. It was something he would have to amend now that new enemies just as supernatural as the Shadows revealed themselves. New allies, as well, as he thought of Rias Gremory and the offer she had extended to him.

As he took the meandering road back to his apartment, he wondered what his fellow members of SEES would say. Mitsuru would probably admonish him for putting the mission at stake, as well as the lives of his teammates. Yukari would do the same thing, but would be more worried about him than the team. The only one who would defend him would be Junpei, and he could almost imagine the slacker's voice telling the others to give him a break.

A thin smile spread across his face. Good, old Junpei.

And then the gravity of the situation struck him, and once more he grew angry, the recollection further adding to the pain.

They had caught him unaware, the ones termed as Fallen Angels, and had he been himself when climbing the Tower, the wounds that he was dealt would have proved fatal. But he had surpassed the Tower, beaten whatever challenges that awaited him on its darkened floors, and had climbed to the top where Nyx herself had awaited him. Wounds that would have been lethal if left untreated then, did little but bother him now. It was a testament to how far he had come, beginning when Orpheus had first leant him its aid to when he faced the Shadow of Death on that broken pillar, with gods at his side to do battle instead of just a single master of strings.

Still, while the soul was strong, the flesh had proved weak, and he had felt pain, real pain, when the spear of light sheared through his heart. But pain did not mean death, not when Death itself existed in him in the form of Thanatos. As long as He was inside him, he could not truly be killed. And even without the Guardian of the Underworld to protect him, there were others who would have risen to the task.

His Personas were many and myriad when he fought Nyx, and they had all found him eventually when he was transplanted to this new world. Angels and demons he could command. Divine beasts and mythical monsters prowled beneath his psyche. Heroes of old, legends that were sung of in flowing tales, their deeds as fabled as their names, willingly bent knee to him. And while they were inside him, they shared a fraction of their power with him. It was the gift of the Wild Card and it was a gift he had used well.

From Kohyru, Sacred Dragon of the Celestial Zodiac, he had learned to summon fiery conflagrations in the form of powerful Maragidynes. From Siegfried, slayer of Fafnir, the knowledge to wield swords better than any mortal could teach. From Odin, the element of lightning, the ability to wield it and to protect himself from it. The list grew on and on.

And when Metatron, Lord of Angels, had been called, he had been infused with holy light, the Archangel's mere presence enough to bask him in an aura of sanctified energy. His flesh had reknit, the holes had closed, and where the light spears had penetrated his body, clean, healthy skin appeared, covering the once gory wounds as if they had never been there in the first place.

It had not been his first choice. He had wanted Thanatos at first, or even a dark type Persona to take advantage of the Fallen Angels' affinity with light. But Metatron had demanded to be called. Metatron, who hated demons above all else, who punished the heretic with fire and sword, had demanded to be summoned. Metatron, whose contempt for those that betrayed the Word of God was legendary, had demanded to be called forth so that it may face the Fallen.

And then it had done something that surprised even him.

* * *

**I Know of Your Kind. Cast Down from the High Heavens. Banished from Eternal Paradise.**

Its silver face turned to regard the woman, who was no longer wearing the triumphant leer.

**I Know of Your Ilk. In Your Hubris You have Thrown Away His Gift. In Your Despair You have Lost Yourself to Darkness.**

Raynare trembled, and took a faltering step back.

**I Know of Your Heresies. The Perversions of Light You have Committed. The Wretched Deeds that have Stained Your Souls Black.**

The Archangel spread its arms wide, almost invitingly.

**I Know of You. But do You Know of Me? Do You Know Who I Am?**

They nodded, eyes wide. In a flash, the atmosphere in the room changed. The metallic wings spread open, reaching their full span. The sword was lifted, the flaming blade tip pointing to the Fallen. And when it next spoke, its voice contained the brass rumble of authority.

**Then Why aren't You Bowing Yet?**

They knelt. The bearded man first, features taut with frightened surprise. The woman was second, her lithe body moving sensuously despite the trembling in her limbs. There was a worshipful expression on her face. The child was last, tumbling from her seat on the table to land clumsily on the floor. She pressed her forehead to the ground and did not look up.

Only one still stood, Raynare, whose look of defiance did little to hide the way her legs quaked. Metatron tilted its head, its mask gleaming as it took in the sight of the Fallen who refused to bow.

**When Man Heeded the Poisoned Words of the Serpent, He was Doomed for Eternity. What Serpent has Whispered into Your Ear, Raynare, Guardian of the White Gates, for You to have Fallen so?**

Raynare refused to meet the angel's stare, but her lips moved.

"Kokabiel," she whispered.

In response, Metatron slowly floated its way towards the woman, who took a step backwards in fear.

**I Know of Him. Just as I Know of the Honeyed Words that He has Fed to You are Lies. **

Raynare's face contorted in rage.

**He has Never Considered You His Equal. He has Never Thought of You as You have Thought of Him. He has Never Loved You.**

"Liar!"

**I am the Voice of God. I Convey His Command. Truth is All I Know. **

"Shut up," the Fallen Angel clutched at her head, "Shut up. Shut up."

**Kokabiel Fell because of His Love for a Mortal Woman. He has Tasted the Sweet Fruit of Corruption. You will Never Compare to the One who Made Him Fall.**

"_Shut up!"_

Raynare's eyes lit up with anger, and in an instant the light spear was conjured, sent hurtling towards the gleaming figure that hovered before her. Metatron swatted the projectile away with an armored hand, sending the lance flipping end over end until it sank shaft-deep in a nearby wall. Another appeared in Raynare's hand, but before she could cast the Archangel was already in front of her, steel gauntlet reaching out.

**Raynare. The Ancient Laws of the High Heavens Forbids Us from Interfering with the Mortal Realm.**

One hand grasped her by the neck.

**Yet, You have Done So. Brazenly.**

The other buried the sword up to its hilt into her stomach.

**This is the Punishment for your Transgression.**

The Fallen made a wet, gasping sound as the blade exploded out of her back.

**The Wound will Never Heal until You have Atoned for your Crime.**

The sword slid free, and the woman collapsed to her knees, mouth wide open. The Archangel gestured and the blade vanished from his hand. Turning, it placed an armored boot on the Fallen's shoulder. Raynare managed a single jerk of surprise as the plated foot touched her back, and then she was being forced down, pushed by immense, overwhelming force.

**Fallen. You have Committed Untold Atrocities. Your Hands are Stained with the Blood of the Innocent. Your Deeds have Tainted the Name of Our Kind.**

Silver hands grasped her exposed pinions in a vice-like grip, one for each wing. Her eyes widened in realization.

"No!"

**You do not Deserve the Gifts He has Bestowed Upon You.**

"No! Stop!" Raynare struggled feebly against the Archangel's strength, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against the ground as she tried in vain to drag herself away, "I repent! I repent! Stop! I beg you!"

Metatron merely grasped her wings in a tighter grip.

**The Wound was Your Punishment. This is Your Judgment. **

It pulled, and Raynare screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

They were devils.

As he sat in the lavishly furnished student council room, listening to their ongoing explanation, that same thought played over and over again.

It was such an unfathomable concept, such an insane suggestion that had he not experienced the strangeness of the Dark Hour and climbed the unnatural creation that was the Tower he would have thought they were lying to him.

But they were not. That much was clear. Rias had shown him her wings, manifesting bat-like pinions from her shoulders. Issei had proudly displayed his Sacred Gear, the weapons devils apparently used in their so-called Ranking Games, and regaled him with the tale of how Rias had resurrected him to be one of them. It bothered him that the boy was not disturbed by the fact that he had been forced to shed his humanity to live again, but from what choices were available to him at the time, he could hardly blame him. It was a decision that was not wrong, nor was Rias wrong for giving him a chance to make that decision.

And that was the crux of the issue. He could sense no evil among them. No sense of ill-will. That troubled him. It was not in the nature of those affiliated with the Hells to help others, humanity especially. There was a fundamental difference between what he understood of demonkind and theirs. His demons, the ones embedded deep within his psyche, were malign creatures of terrible power that forever plotted the total destruction of Heaven and the utter corruption of Man. These demons, the ones sitting in front of him, 'educating him', were not.

Angels embodied the aspects of Justice, Truth, and Valor. The Fallen were corrupted angels and their calling was Lust, Envy, and Avarice. Demons personified all that was negative about humanity, and as a result they fed on dark emotions such as Hatred, Anger, and Despair.

It had been this way since the dawn of time. It was a rule that every myth, every legend, every fable followed. His Personas were based on them, and how they looked and how they acted matched those stories. It was disconcerting to see that there was no such rule enforced here.

Or perhaps they were not demons at all.

Devils, not demons, Rias had introduced them as. Devils, the lesser evil, only devious instead of outright malicious. Only mischievous, instead of outright harmful. Tolerable, instead of outright blasphemous.

His eyes roamed around the room. Rias had brought her full peerage with her. Some he recognized. Yuuto Kiba, the most popular boy in school, his normally smiling face unusually solemn as he sat on the couch, watching him warily. Beside him was Akeno Himejima, the renowned second of Kuoh Academy's Two Great Ladies. She winked at him when his gaze travelled to her. He fought the sudden urge to shudder. From the short time he had seen her and Rias interact, it was clear that the beautiful girl was not nearly as elegant or refined as her fellow students believed. Some of the things she had said were down right vulgar. In the back of the room, perched on a table and her legs swinging in rhythm was Koneko Toujou. Out of all of the entire group, she was the one he knew the least about. The petite girl was almost always quiet, and like him, escaped notice quite easily. He did not recall ever speaking to her. And finally there was Issei. The pervert had positively crushed him in a hug when he entered the room and from the look in the boy's eye, he knew he had made a friend for life for what he did yesterday.

He supposed that was a good thing.

His gaze shifted. Rias and her peerage had not been the only devils in the room when he entered. His eyes flickered to Souna Shitori, Student Council President of Kuoh Academy, and a high ranking devil herself. That name had been an alias however, and she had introduced herself as Sona Sitri, heir to the Sitri Clan, and a rival of Rias, though from what he had seen that rivalry was more platonic than real. Apparently his deeds had warranted enough attention for Sona to show her hand as well, and it was she who had done the most of the talking, something he was forced to admit she was very good at. Her explanations were concise and thorough, and he did not find himself bored or wanting for information. Sona had also brought members of her peerage, but not all. Among those that loitered around the room, he recognized Tsubaki Shinra, the tall, calm girl that was Sona's right hand, standing ever vigilant by her president's side. A few others he also knew as well, not by familiarity but by name.

And they were all watching him, waiting for his response as Sona finally finished her account.

"I see," he said after what he hoped was a respectful period of silence.

"Do you have any questions, Arisato-san?" she asked, her tone business-like but not unkindly.

"No."

"I understand it may be a little too much to take in at one time," Rias said warmly, mistaking his abruptness for uncertainty, "If you have any questions, please feel free to ask," she offered him a small smile, "It is the least we can do in exchange for helping my peerage."

"No," he repeated, "It is sufficient."

They stared at him. He could see why. Yukari had always said he appeared apathetic and cold to approach. Attempting to get a rise out of him was next to impossible, not that Junpei and later Ken lacked for trying. But they misunderstood. He was not apathetic. He merely saw things in a different light.

"My goodness, Arisato-kun" the soft voice of Akeno sounded from her relaxed position on the couch, "You are taking this quite well."

He frowned. How had they expected he take it? They were devils. They had shown him the evidence, and no matter how many questions he asked or how many times he denied it, they were still devils. Asking inane questions was not his way. Denying the truth was foolish. When Thanatos burst forth from Orpheus's body, he had accepted that his life would never be the same again. It was much the same now, just without the threat of imminent death from hungry Shadows.

In fact, this was almost tame compared to some of the things he had seen in the Tower.

"That's Arisato-san for you," it disturbed him to hear the pride in Issei's voice, "Always cool and steady!"

Rias and Sona exchanged significant looks.

"Very well then," Rias said primly, her fingers folded together on the table, "We have told you what we are. If you don't mind, we would like to ask you a few questions."

He nodded. He had expected this and prepared himself for the interrogation to begin.

To his surprise, the girl instead took a deep breath.

"_Why have you been avoiding me!?"_ and then promptly released it all at once in an impressive outburst.

He raised an eyebrow. Now that was a question he had not expected in particular. And judging from Sona's expression, neither had she.

"That question wasn't part of the list," the Student Council President frowned.

"Every single time I try to approach you, you find a reason to go and do something else!" Rias all but ignored her co-interrogator, instead choosing to wave her arms for emphasis, "I've spent so many hours searching for you that it's practically become my damn hobby! And when I do find you and try to talk to you, you just nod and refuse to say anything! It's all very rude! If you don't like me at least have the decency to say it to my face!"

She finally stopped ranting when she noticed the amused looks she was being given.

"Ara ara," Akeno tittered, "I didn't know that our Buchou was infatuated with Arisato-kun."

Rias blushed and crossed her arms across her chest.

"That's not what I meant Akeno!"

"To think that my beloved Buchou would not tell me her heart's desire," the black-haired beauty mock-sniffed, "What a bad friend I must have been."

Rias chose then to say a few choice words that he had not expected could come from someone of her reputation. Eyes twinkling, Akeno retaliated and the two began to hurl abuse towards one another as old friends would often do.

He blinked. He wondered idly how many dreams would be broken if the male population of the academy was privy to the conversation that was happening before him right now. His bemusement was not shared though, as the rest of the occupants of the room merely weathered the storm with quiet dignity. It was obvious they were all used to this; all except Issei who looked confused as his senpais exchanged insults back and forth.

"Buchou," he ventured, "if you wanted to talk to Arisato-san, why didn't you tell me? I sit with him nearly every lunch."

The silence was staggering.

"What you're telling me," Rias finally ground out, "is that you managed to somehow find him every day, while I chased him around like some dog after a stick?"

"It must have been a very big stick," Akeno suggested.

"Not helping, Akeno," the devil massaged her temples, "Not helping," turning, she regarded Issei with a critical eye, "What were you two doing together then all the time?" then her eyes widened, "Wait! Stop! Forget I asked-"

But it was far too late. Issei's chest puffed up proudly.

"We talked about harems of course!" he declared, "And women! Lots of women! Breasts, legs, butts, you name it!"

Really. The boy had no shame. He was worse than Junpei, who had practically drooled when the girls had appeared wearing swimsuits at Mitsuru's resort.

"Ah," Koneko said from her corner, "They are both perverts then."

Now that was just being unfair. Issei had been the one who talked about harems. He had just been forced to suffer through it.

"Is it true?" Akeno waggled her eyebrows at him exaggeratedly, "Has our dear Issei-kun corrupted Arisato-san with his talk of wicked, forbidden things?"

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he chose to say nothing at all. Apparently, Akeno took that as a yes, because a lecherous grin spread across her face.

"If you would like, this onee-san can show you some adult things when we are alone," she teased.

The corners of his mouth twitched. Were all devils this needlessly provocative?

"Way to go, Arisato-san!" Issei punched a fist into the air, "Your harem route begins now!"

Oh god.

"Will all of you stop this!?" Sona bit out, "We need to get to the matter at hand! We still have questions to ask."

Inwardly, he let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a voice of reason.

"Exactly," Rias nodded in affirmation, "Like why have you ignored me for all this time?"

Or not.

Sona sighed and took off her glasses. She rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"Is it really that important, Rias?"

"Yes," the red-haired girl huffed, "You have no idea the frustration he caused me."

He honestly didn't know it affected her that much. He felt a little guilty about that. So he decided to tell them the truth.

"You remind me of someone I know."

They stared at him. They had not expected that for an answer, especially Rias, whose cheeks were flushed.

"Oh," was all she said.

"My, my," Akeno clapped happily, "It turns out that our mysterious Arisato-kun has in his heart someone who looks like our beautiful Buchou, and whenever our brave hero looks at her he thinks of the pain that is his lost love," she winked at him, expecting him to blush, to deny it, to laugh it off.

Instead, he gave her a neutral gaze.

"Yes."

And just like that, the mood in the room soured. Akeno actually paled. He smiled thinly. He was rather good at making things awkward.

"Ah, I am sorry," the beautiful girl murmured, "I did not mean… I meant it as a joke… I didn't want to…" her apologies died miserably in her throat as he continued to stare at her.

"You have someone you love that looks like me?" Rias asked softly after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

"Had," he amended.

They all winced. Except for one. Issei's mouth was wide open, and to his mild horror tears were beginning to form in the boy's eyes.

"I thought all this time that Arisato-san was not interested in harems," the pervert clenched a trembling fist in a suitably emotional gesture, "But in reality it was because of your futile love for a single woman!"

What.

"Don't worry, Arisato-san!" Issei actually had the gall to clasp his hands into his own, "I will help you get over this woman as a true friend should! And then we will bask in the joys of the harem together!"

Hmm. He wondered which one of his Personas still ate humans, and if they would consider a male roughly of high school age as suitable sustenance.

"Just imagine, Arisato-san, what you could do with a harem! The sea of breasts! I want to drown in their softness!" Issei's nose had actually started to leak blood, and a vacant look entered his eyes, "I can just imagine it now! Buchou's breasts!"

To her credit, Rias managed to look dignified as her pawn began describing the myriad of things he would do to her rather bountiful assets, and judging from the resigned expressions around the room, Issei's behavior was not exactly unexpected. What was unexpected was when a brown-haired boy the same age as Issei suddenly sprung out from the side of the room that held Sona's peerage.

"Hyoudou-san!" the boy's eyes burned with fire, "You have moved me with your love for your Buchou! I too wish to fondle my Buchou's boobs! Which is why I, Genshirou Saji, will also help Arisato-san get over his love of his former girlfriend and set him on the path of righteousness!"

He had no idea what one had to do with the other, and part of him, the sensible part, told him it was best not to ask.

"Saji-san," Issei's voice was filled with emotion as he took his counterpart's hand.

"Hyoudou-san," Saji returned with equal emotion and grasped Issei's wrist.

He had read about bonds of brotherhood forged from extreme circumstances, almost all of them war. The rigors of battle made companionship tighter, and those that survived alongside one another under great duress became lifelong friends. He had a hint of the same brotherhood with the members of SEES, the obstacles that faced them on the Tower forcing them to become a close-knit group. But all that paled in comparison to what he was witnessing before his eyes.

For the first time in the world's history, a bond of brotherhood was being formed not based on battle or war, but from perversity.

If he was not faintly nauseated by the whole scene, he would have been impressed.

And then the realization hit.

Oh god, there were two of them.

He must have looked significantly aggrieved because Rias suddenly coughed into her hand and instantly Kiba stood up, moving from his seat on the couch with almost inhuman grace. The older boy looked amused as he dragged Issei back with him, shaking his head ruefully at the pervert's antics. His counterpart though, did not seem to share his amusement. Tsubaki's features were set in a stern frown as she pulled a sudden taciturn Saji back towards their side of the room.

And abruptly as the commotion began, it ended, and once more the attention was solely undivided on him.

"How did you defeat the Fallen Angels?"

He had known Sona Sitri, the real Sona Sitri, for barely hours and already he was getting used to the girl's style of conversation. Always curt. Always precise. Always to the point.

"Indeed," Rias took the opportunity to press him, "Issei says you used a gun, though I am hesitant to believe that such a simple weapon was capable of downing all four of them."

The doubt was apparent in her tone.

"I saw what I saw," the boy in question said stubbornly, "Arisato-san pulled out a gun," he winced when he recalled what happened next, "and then Raynare kicked me in the head. I didn't see anything after that."

His knew this. He had discovered Issei out cold after Metatron had done its bloody work. The boy was unconscious when the Lord of Angels had materialized, and had known nothing of what transpired between him and the Fallen. That suited him just fine. He did not mind disclosing his Personas if need be, but some of the higher ranked ones he would rather keep secret. It would be… problematic… if they were allowed to manifest without warning.

In truth, on the way here, he had considered lying to them, hiding the existence of his Personas, and making up a suitable cover story. But then again, they had been be entirely truthful with him from the start, entirely transparent, and he could at least reciprocate the gesture. That, and he knew eventually his power would be revealed, if not from saving Issei, then certainly by doing something else, and he would rather reveal it now in a controlled environment than have it exposed involuntarily in a situation out of his grasp.

Slowly, he reached into his pocket and produced the Evoker, and held it up for them to see.

"That's it!" Issei exclaimed triumphantly, "That's the gun! I told you I wasn't lying!"

Rias took being wrong gracefully, and gave the Evoker's silver barrel a curious glance. That curiosity turned swiftly to shock as he put the barrel to his head.

"Wait Arisato-san-"

He pulled the trigger and instantly chilling power speared through his mind. He allowed it to gather, to reach into his psyche, calling out to the countless manifestations that were stored within.

His eyes were still on Rias. It was perhaps for that reason the Persona that chose to appear was hers.

Its lithe frame materialized from behind him, long, slender limbs draped with black cloth. Steel enclosed its chest, riveted with iron bolts, but that only served to enhance its figure. A casque of metal covered its head, slit-visored yet strangely graceful. On top of the helm, a golden crown sat, signifying the royalty the legends had proclaimed it to be. In one hand it held a rapier, the other a dagger, and it crossed both in an elegant motion across its chest, bowing to him even as the rest of its body solidified.

The silence that followed he predicted, as did the exclamations of surprise once the silence had run its course.

"What the Hell is that?" Saji managed eloquently to put all of their thoughts into one simple question.

"Penthesilea," he could not help but add veneration to his tone.

"Penthe-what?" Saji turned to stare at him.

"Penthesilea," Sona corrected him, her eyes wide with interest as she regarded the floating being, "According to human mythology, she was a queen of the Amazons, and fell in the Trojan War at the hands of Achilles. The legend is Greek, I believe. Though that it is not what I thought an Amazon would like."

He smiled. Personas took the image of what their wielders unconsciously wished them to be. Mitsuru had been young when her power awakened Penthesilea, and what she had desired first and foremost then was to protect her father from the Shadows. It was for that reason that the figure before them was clad in steel instead of robes, and bore weapons instead of rod and scepter. It had been summoned for a purpose, and its image reflected that purpose.

The thought led his mind to stray to when he first appeared on this world, when he first called for his Personas. They had answered and among his, theirs as well. He was not surprised. Igor had mentioned bonds that surpassed even Death. The ones he had with SEES certainly counted among them. He had died for them, after all. No, that did not surprise him. What had surprised him was when he first called for Orpheus and Thanatos, it had answered instead, Penthesilea, elegant form materializing in front of him and then embracing him in its ethereal arms.

Seldom was he emotional, but that particular moment was… powerful.

He wondered what Mitsuru would say when he told her that it was her Persona, not one of his own, that had answered him in his moment of weakness. Probably blush, and then chastise him for making her blush.

"So what can it do?" he was startled from his reminiscences by Kiba's voice. The handsome boy was gazing at the Persona with some skepticism, his eyes lingering on the two blades it held in its hands.

"It looks kind of fragile," Saji added in, "How does it even-"

"Bufula."

Spikes of ice erupted from the wall furthest from them, coating the surface with sheets of dense hoarfrost. Rings of thorns, coiled and serpentine like the stem of a rose, contorted in meandering patterns. Jagged barbs, their chilling surface serrated liked the edge of a knife, shot up in rows across the wall's exterior. Great spines that were more spears than ice jutted out by their own, lonesome edifices surrounded by smaller structures. Together, they arranged themselves haphazardly until the entire wall was coated with irregularly shaped rime.

They stared at the scene before them, the wall crystallized entirely by ice, and then stared back at Penthesilea, silent and hovering, whose rapier was pointed to the frozen monument it had just created.

"That is… impressive," Sona finally admitted.

Her face completely unperturbed, Koneko hopped lightly from where she had been sitting, and moved towards the nearest ice spike. Gingerly, she laid a hand on it, and then quickly withdrew when the chill burned her.

"Real," she murmured.

"That's really cool, Arisato-san!" Issei blurted out, "You didn't tell me you had a Sacred Gear inside of you too!"

"No, he didn't," Rias said and eyed him appraisingly. The way her gaze lingered on him longer than necessary was something he did not miss.

"So you must be an elemental type then?" Issei rambled on, "Buchou told me about the different forms of Sacred Gears, and since you can cast ice that would have to mean your Gear is the elemental type! Isn't that awesome? We can be rivals and train one another!"

"No."

Issei halted in mid-speech and stared at him.

"Errr… what?"

"Not a Sacred Gear," he nodded to Penthesilea, "Persona."

"Persona? What's that?"

"A manifestation of thought," he replied simply, "Resolution of the mind taken form."

They stared at him in confusion.

"I know you're new to the concept of Sacred Gears, Arisato-san," Rias said kindly, "But could it be that you grew up with this power and thought of it as a 'manifestation of thought' when in reality it was just the Sacred Gear revealing itself?"

"Sacred Gears that can summon are not exactly common," Sona affirmed her friend's words, "but they are known to exist," she frowned, "Though for a Gear to summon a familiar that can use the elements? That's something I've never heard of. It will require research."

"Hear that, Arisato-san?" Issei grinned at him, "You have a rare Sacred Gear in you just like me!"

He closed his eyes. Sometimes the boy's incessantly cheerful attitude really did annoy him. But he couldn't hold that against him. It was in his nature. He could no more blame him than he could blame Junpei for being obnoxious, or Akihito for being stoic.

"Your Sacred Gears can only cast one element at a time, correct?" he opened his eyes to ask. Sona nodded, "And the ones that can summon. They can only summon one type of familiar?"

"Yes," the bespectacled girl looked at him in confusion, clearly not understanding what his questions had to do with anything.

He suspected as much. The Sacred Gears, from what they told him, were artificial creations. Personas were innately human, entirely organic. The former had limits. The latter did not.

He allowed the power that formed Penthesilea to recede back into his mind, and in response the ironclad figure that was Mitsuru's representation of the Amazon queen faded from view. He dived back into his conscience, searching for the right manifestation to call upon. He didn't need to search far. The ones he used the most, the ones he was most accustomed to, awakened to his call far easier than the ones he kept back in the recesses of his psyche. Summoning them took no more than a second of probing.

The Evoker rose again, and though he no longer required the tool to call for the Personas he used the most, he wanted to make a point. The barrel once more kissed his skin and he pulled the trigger without a second thought.

"Orpheus."

Familiar power flowed through him, cold like ice, accompanied by a sound like tinkling glass. He did not need to look back to know the summon had worked. From a flash of blue light Orpheus emerged, eyes the color of human blood gleaming from a mask of blackened metal.

"Impossible!" he heard Sona exclaim.

"Hmm, this one is cuter than the first one," Akeno smiled, "But also a little scary."

"Did it just change gender!?" predictably, that from Issei.

He ignored them all and focused on the newly called Persona.

"Agilao."

Orpheus held out a hand and from its opened palm a wave of suffocating heat erupted, blasting over the heads of the assembled devils and directly into the ice Penthesilea had created. The wall immediately burst into flames, engulfed by angry, orange embers as the conjured fire ate steadily into the ice. In no time at all, the hoarfrost that coated the surface had melted, reduced to mere puddles on the floor, and even that did not last long. The heat was so intense that its lingering aftereffects evaporated what pools that managed to gather and turned them into hissing clouds of steam.

He could see the flickers of doubts in their eyes. They were wavering on what to decide, and he sympathized with them. When Mitsuru had first introduced the concept of Personas, he himself had been skeptical. The Dark Hour and subsequent forays into the Tower had quickly disabused him of any misgivings he had. But there was no Dark Hour here, and no Tower either. They had no way of seeing the Shadows for themselves or experiencing the awakening of a Persona. The things he was doing could be replicated by Sacred Gears, and naturally, they deviated to that as explanation enough.

It was human nature to fall back upon the expected to explain the unexpected. Apparently, the same held true for devil-kind.

He could not explain with words what a Persona was without them hand waving it away as another function of Sacred Gears. He could only show them, and though twice he had displayed the elemental power a Persona could wield, he still had a third he could show.

Without preamble he rolled up his sleeve, revealing the flesh of his arm. Before anyone could protest, he slammed it hard against Sona's table, feeling the skin tear as he cut it against the heavy, wooden edge. When he lifted it, all could see the ugly welt that leaked blood down his limb.

"Arisato-san!" Rias exclaimed, concern and worry etched on her features, "That was unnecessary!"

"What did you do that for!?" Issei cried out, his normal cheer forgotten at the sight of an injured friend.

It was not a question of what, but a question of why. If they still needed proof, he would give it to them the only way he knew how.

"Dia."

Orpheus rose above him, and bared its iron lyre. Mechanical fingers danced across steel strings, and in response, he could feel the Persona's power concentrating in his arm. He held up the limb for them to see and waited as the healing spell did its work. The skin reknit, closing over the gash with methodical slowness. The bruises followed, the dark pigments in his flesh fading second by second until only healthy, pink skin remained. He clenched his hand, and showed them the unblemished arm that had bled real blood not seconds ago.

He saw the stunned faces of those around him, and knew he had succeeded.

"Not a Sacred Gear," he repeated, saying every word slowly for emphasis, _"Persona."_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rias had offered him peerage.

He had dismissed Orpheus and almost immediately after the red-haired devil had offered him a place by her side. He had refused. From what they had told him about peerages, it was an unattractive prospect. It almost resembled feudalism in a way, with lesser nobles supporting a higher noble or a king. Despite what they may have thought, he was not unfamiliar with the concept. The ruler gave the nobles titles and land, and in return they brought themselves and their retinues to serve in his army. It was much the same with peerages. Perhaps that was why a second name for them was dukedom.

He had no wish to be bound to a king or ruler. Rias treated her servants well, he was sure of that, but nonetheless he had no desire to serve under her. So he had refused, and shortly after he had refused, Sona had offered him peerage as well.

The look of betrayal on Rias's face when her rival proposed the exact same conditions she did mere seconds ago had almost been worth it. Almost.

He had declined Sona's offer as well, of course. With Rias, at least he knew her to some extent. Sona had been a stranger barely hours ago, and had come only to explain what they were. If he would not join Rias's peerage, then he certainly wouldn't join Sona's.

He had refused both of them politely, but somehow, he knew it would not be last time this subject was brought up.

He was proven correct when the next day Akeno and Rias met him at the academy gates wearing dazzling smiles. The sudden feeling of doom that welled up within him was only exacerbated when both girls promptly took one of his arms in theirs and forcibly guided him into the school.

He had received a fair share of death glares before when he was seen with Yukari in Gekkoukan High, and later when he was rumored to be close to Mitsuru. He had thought he was well-versed in dealing with negative attention.

Oh how wrong he was.

The amount of ominous stares he was being given as the two great beauties of the school dragged him reluctantly across the courtyard was a magnitude higher than what he thought possible. If looks could kill, he would have been dead and buried a hundred times over.

At least Thanatos had been happy. The aspect of Death reveled in all things that had to do with its calling, stares that radiated premeditated murder included. Where others would have shriveled or clamped up at the glares they were being given, the Persona that represented Death positively preened under the attention.

And that had not been the worst. Not by far. After the two had deposited him in his classroom, had promised they would be back later at lunch to retrieve him, completely ignoring the look of horror he was giving them.

It had been an interesting lesson, he was forced to admit. Who knew calculus could be so exciting with half the class's population staring daggers into his back?

They were actively recruiting him, he knew. Rias had mentioned that devils often sought out humans with the most powerful Sacred Gears and recruited them into their own peerages. Sona had affirmed the same thing, and further expanded on the correlation between the power of a devil's peerage and its place in a Ranking Game. The more Sacred Gears a devil could count upon in its peerage, the better chance it had of placing high in the Ranking Game ladder. It made sense. A king's power was only as strong as his follower's after all, and history, human history, was rife with examples of great kings and the powerful nobles that supported them.

And to them, he was powerful. They did not know the extent of his power or the number of Personas he had stored away, but from what he had shown them they could make an educated guess.

He did not think it wrong for them to try and recruit him. There was nothing inherently wrong with solidifying one's power base, and that was precisely what Rias and Sona were trying to do. Kings were expected to do so to protect their realm, and those who did not made for weak kings and soon to be deposed kings. No, he did not blame them. He did find their attempts to be annoying though, and when lunch period came around he was the first one out of the classroom, seeking to travel to one of the school's lesser known areas to avoid both devils and their peerages.

That had been the plan, at least.

What he forgot to factor into the equation was Issei. Issei who had somehow managed to find him every time to regale him with stories and tales of harems. Issei who knew where all of his hiding spots were. Issei who had no doubt told Rias when she asked.

He was not surprised at all when he opened the door to find Rias and Akeno sitting formally in the room he used the most often, a blanket spread over the desks they had pushed together to make a table, and a variety of food arranged in a neat pattern on top of it. The smile Rias had given him when their eyes met had been most infuriating.

"Ara, ara, Arisato-kun," Akeno had smirked innocently at him, "what a coincidence. We were just talking about you."

"Indeed," Rias had nodded, "How fortuitous of you to come here Arisato-san. It's as though fate has decreed that we should be together."

In his defense, he had only slammed the door mildly in their faces.

Beating a hasty retreat, he had hoped to find solace in another spot. That hope had been dashed rather brutally when he ran smack-dab into Tsubaki Shinra, who promptly detained him.

"The student council president would like to speak with you," the stern girl had declared and from the way her hand tightened over his shoulder, he knew he would have no say in the matter.

He had been frog-marched halfway to their destination before rescue came from an unlikely source. Koneko and Kiba, different as night and day, stood in the hallway, fully intending to waylay them. He actually had been curious, expecting some sort of cataclysmic mental battle to occur between rival devils from different peerages.

Nothing of the sort.

Instead, Kiba ran a hand through his hair in a roguishly dashing manner and smiled at Tsubaki.

"Senpai," the handsome boy winked, "you are looking very beautiful today."

He had scoffed. As if that would work. It was the oldest trick in the book. And then he had turned to see Tsubaki's cheeks flushing a spectacular shade of crimson.

"Ah… ah…" the girl stuttered, "T-Thank you."

He twitched. He had to remind himself that these were not the demons he was familiar with, but devils, and teenage devils at that. They were susceptible to crushes and infatuations just like any human teenager would. Still, the thought of beings aligned with Hell coming down with a case of puppy love was mildly disconcerting.

Before he had time to dwell on the subject further, Koneko had slid in and started dragging him away by the sleeve. It was only then that the older girl realized things had gone awry and made a half-hearted attempt to stop them. Kiba had immediately interjected himself between her and them and proceeded to sweet talk Tsubaki into turning further shades of red.

Interesting. The next time he faced Shadows of the Devil Arcana, perhaps he would attempt to seduce them with badly formed pick-up lines instead of the usual process of frying them with powered up Mahamaons.

Using Kiba as distraction to escape, Koneko had dragged him for a significant amount of time before they finally stopped to rest. He had regained his breath and was about to thank the girl when she gave him an unusually solemn nod and pushed him into the open room.

The door closed with a click before he could regather his wits and he knew she had locked him in.

But why would… Oh dear.

"Ara, ara, Arisato-kun, you just keep coming back to us, don't you?"

He shuddered at the voice and turned slowly to see Akeno smiling seductively at him.

"It was meant to be," Rias said beside her, her flame-red hair bouncing as she nodded stately, "Arisato-san is merely following the path Fate decrees. He understands it is in his best interest for us to be together."

His eyes travelled down her face to her chest where a key hung from a necklace of silver chain.

Well, shit.

She followed his gaze and smirked when she realized the object of his attention.

"It is uncouth for a boy to stare at a girl's chest for so long," she purred, "But if it is you, I don't mind."

He swallowed. The feeling of imminent doom returned tenfold into his mind.

* * *

The school's hospital room was not that different from Gekkoukan High's, though Kuoh Academy's was slightly more furnished. There were a few more accessories but the feel of the room was the same, as was the smell. The scent of chemicals hung heavy in the air, and he found himself disliking the artificial odor as he sat by the lone bed that was occupied.

Dissuading Rias had not been easy. She had pressed the issue quite persistently, and it was only the school bell that saved him in the end, signaling an end to lunch and for classes to resume. Never before had he felt so relieved at something all students naturally detested.

The smile she had given him before they parted ways left him far from comfortable, however, suggesting that there would be a continuance of the day's events if not after school than certainly tomorrow. It seemed that his days of going unnoticed was about to come swiftly to an end. He was sad to see it go. Peace and quiet had not come easy when he was with SEES and it looked like they were abandoning him now as well.

He counted himself lucky that he managed to avoid both Rias and Sona when the last class ended. It had been a simple matter of blending in with the flood of students heading home and then backtracking his way into campus grounds. It also meant he could do what he had intended to do at lunch, but had been unfortunately sidetracked.

He glanced sideways towards the frail figure covered in white sheets. Asia Argento, the girl that Issei had tried to save, the girl that he did save, lay before him, her chest rising and falling in sporadic patterns. It was a testament to Rias's influence with the school that the priestess was allowed to stay at all on academy grounds. In any other case she would have been rushed to a hospital, not that it would have done any good. The condition she was in could not be cured by mere medicine. It would have just brought more questions, and for beings who wished to remain hidden in human society, more questions were never a good thing.

He felt a pang of sympathy as he watched her. The girl's face was sickly pale, and beads of sweat gathered on her forehead and around her neck. She looked so incredibly weak, so extremely fragile, that he was loathe to wake her. However, it was still a better look than when he first found her, when she wore the grey pallor of death like a cloak. Now she just looked sick, and with sickness came fitful sleep, interrupted by periods of tired awareness. Such a period came now, and he watched as her eyes flickered wearily open.

"Issei?" she murmured as she registered a presence beside her.

He fought the urge to smile.

He had heard that boy had not strayed far from Asia's side ever since she was brought in, sacrificing his own free time to remain in the same room as her to keep her company. He could at least respect him for that. More and more the pervert resembled Junpei, buffoonish and foolhardy on the outside, but tempered with steel within. When Chidori had sacrificed her life to save him, that steel had been cast into the fire and emerged as something indestructible. The slacker still retained his reckless ways, but there was a certain strength about him that had not existed before. Chidori's sacrifice had hardened him, given him something to live for besides food, women, and games.

And as it turned out, it wasn't much of a sacrifice to begin with, as shortly afterwards, Chidori somehow managed to revive herself. He had been there when Junpei received the news and had been genuinely happy for his friend. Happy enough that he did not mind when the emotional boy picked him up, crushed him to his chest, and sobbed into his shoulder.

He had honestly not expected Junpei to be capable of such emotions, and apparently neither did Junpei, for it had been an exceedingly awkward walk back towards their dorms.

They… didn't really talk about that incident anymore.

He waited until she was fully cognizant before he replied.

"No."

"Oh," the girl rubbed at her eyes tiredly, "I'm sorry. I thought you were Hyoudou-san at first," she blinked blearily at him, "You are Arisato-san, aren't you?" when he inclined his head in acknowledgment, she straightened herself on the bed, "Hyoudou-san said you saved me. Thank you for that."

"You are welcome," he replied.

The girl gazed at him curiously when he said nothing more.

He frowned.

He was not good at expressing concern. It had never been his way. He preferred to listen and act only when it became necessary. It had worked for the social links. He had listened to their troubles and only responded when it became required. So where others would have made the question sound genuine with compassion, his came out strained and awkward.

"Are you… well?"

"Yes," despite her condition, the girl still had the courage to smile, "I am weak right now, but Gremory-san says that with time I should be able to heal."

"You will not."

She turned to stare at him with wide eyes. He cursed inwardly. He had not meant to be so blunt.

"The state you are in," he began hesitantly, "it is my fault. I could not heal you completely."

"Do not blame yourself, Arisato-san," she tried to sit up, but failed even that simple motion, such was her weakness. Instead, she offered him a small smile, "I am sure you tried your best, and I am grateful for that."

"You misunderstand," he frowned, trying to come up with an easier way to say it, but couldn't, "When I found you, you were already dead."

The girl looked down.

"Oh," she said in a small voice.

He wished he didn't have to tell her, but she had a right to know.

"Your Sacred Gear was taken out. The process killed you."

Asia closed her eyes, and her hands clenched into fists on the bed sheet as she recollected memories she had no wish to recall.

"I remember being tied up and Issei-san coming to rescue me. And then Raynare started drawing out the Sacred Gear. It felt like something was pulling away my life force, dragging it away even as I tried to hold on," she winced, "It hurt. And then everything went black."

"Yes," he said, not knowing what else to say.

The resulting silence that fell weighed like lead in his mind. He grimaced. He was not good at this consoling business.

"When I first tried to revive you," he said at last when the stillness became unbearable, "I was unsuccessful. The Light refused you."

The girl's face fell, but she nodded in understanding.

"I am not surprised," she said softly, "I was excommunicated by the Church. The Heavens will never accept me."

"The Church has no say whether you are accepted into Heaven or not."

She looked up at him in surprise.

"But the Church-"

"Is an institution run by men," he finished for her, "And men have never decided who goes to Heaven. That has always been God's domain."

"That is true," she admitted, "So then why does the Light refuse me?"

"You broke a rule."

"A rule?" confusion spread across her features.

"A law of the Heavens."

It was what Metatron had told him as they stood amongst the wreckage, he gazing up to her chained form, and it merely watching from afar.

Asia hesitated, then nodded, agreeing with him reluctantly.

"I once healed a devil, when I was still a Holy Maiden. That was why the Church excommunicated me. He was hidden as a human, and I did not know at the time. When it was finally revealed, I was called a witch and driven away by the very people I helped," a sorrowful expression crossed her face, "I was forced to go to the Fallen Angels for safety, and Raynare took me in."

That made sense. Healing her hadn't been the problem. The cuts and bruises that were on her body were easily washed away by a simple Dia. It was the resurrection part that he could not replicate. The Light was a rigid, unbending thing. Its laws were few, but they were stringent. Break any one of them, and the Heavens would cast you down. In her case, she had broken the most important law; consorting with demonkind, and while she had done so unknowingly, the Light made no exception.

Some would decry this as unjust. Some would rage against the Heavens for enforcing such a severe decree. They would be fools. The Light was strict because it had to be strict. A stray step from the path Heaven ordained, and one risked corruption. It was how the Fallen had came to be, and he had seen the evidence of the darkness that stained their souls, both from Raynare and the Personas he housed in his mind. So while others might have pitied the girl and declared her fate to be a tragic one, he merely accepted it.

But accepting it did not mean he would not defy it. Nyx had demanded humanity accept their deaths. He defied her by having Thanatos ram its blade into her ugly, hollow face. And when she switched Arcanas, turning into monstrous form after monstrous form, he had defied her further by summoning the ultimate Personas of each of the Arcana she chose to defile. And when at last she was forced into her final form, the great shadow of the moon falling inexorably towards the Earth to bring forth the end of all creation, he had ascended time and space to defy her on that blasted, desolate landscape, with nothing but the unlimited potential of humanity at his back and the uncountable numbers of Persona in his mind.

It had been enough. Nyx was powerful. There was no denying that. But he accepted she was powerful, accepted that she was what she claimed to be, and nonetheless, defied her.

And when he stood amongst the ruins of that church, watching the unmoving body of a girl chained to a beam of broken wood, he had accepted that it was to be her fate, and nonetheless defied the Light to give her life back once more.

Metatron had almost been furious.

"If the Light couldn't help me," Asia finally spoke up, "how did you revive me?"

He smiled at her, hoping it would reassure her.

"Not all forms of resurrection belong to angels."

"I… see."

She did not see, but he did not blame her. It was a remarkably simple explanation for a procedure that would most likely undermine her entire faith. It was also something he did not wish to fully disclose, not while he was still unsure of his place in this world and his allegiance to those that dwelled on it.

"But it worked," she asked hopefully, and when he nodded, she pressed on, "If it worked, why do I feel so weak?" her eyes darted to him, widening in realization, "You said I would never recover."

"I did. Your Sacred Gear. I could not replicate it."

He had tried. Applying the same method he had used to resurrect her, he had placed the fragment of power into her body where it promptly broke into pieces. He had known that it would happen. Even before Rias and Sona explained to him the concept of Sacred Gears he had felt the diminishing aura of energy that remained in the girl's body. His guess had been close to the mark. The remnants of a weapon, forged by a power that even he could not match, concealed in the frail body of a mortal. And even as he duplicated the process of its creation, he knew that it would fail, just as he knew the resurrection itself would be partial, fleeting, incomplete.

Nevertheless, an incomplete resurrection was better than no resurrection at all, and he counted that as a victory for true resurrection had never been his intent.

"So what will become of me?" she asked.

"You will waste away. Once the last pieces of your Sacred Gear disappear, so will your life."

Asia gave him a half-smile. He admired her ability to do so. But then again, that had always been a human trait. To smile in the face of adversity.

"You make everything sound so clinical, Arisato-san."

"I am sorry," he said and meant it, "I am not used to having these conversations."

"That is alright. I think it is rather endearing."

The girl leaned back into her pillows, and gave a small cough.

"So I will die then."

"Yes," he answered, "You will die. And then you will live."

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Tomorrow you will ask Rias to be made into a devil, and once you do die, she will resurrect you as one amongst her peerage, and you will live again, just not as a human."

Asia nodded slowly.

"Gremory-san said that if things became worse she would give me that option. Becoming a devil, that is."

"I am not surprised she did," he replied and waited for the inevitable question to arise.

"So if I was going to die anyways, then why did you revive me?"

He gave her a patient look.

"Because you deserve a choice."

"A choice?" she asked, unsure.

He stood up to stretch, wincing slightly as a few of his joints cracked in response.

"Rias gave you that option because you are still alive. And that is why I revived you. So that you may have that option. To choose whether to live as a devil or die as a human."

The girl looked down, and he noted that her hands were now gripping the sides of her bed in a tight hold.

"I think I would prefer to live as a human," she said softly.

"That regret you are feeling. It would not be possible if you died and Rias had turned you."

"I don't understand."

"A devil is forever loyal to the demon it serves. Your case will be no different. Your ability to choose, your ability to decide your own fate, will be forsaken and replaced with obedience to the King of your peerage."

Rias and Sona had left that part out of their explanations. But he knew. The demons within his mind made sure he knew.

Asia bit her lip at the thought.

"The power to choose is what makes us human. The power to decide is what makes us matter. You will lose that should you become a devil."

"I want to live," she said after a while, "I want to be friends with Issei, and Rias, and everyone else," her voice quivered, "But I don't want to lose my humanity to do so. Why can't I just be myself and live happily?"

That last question was not directed to him or anyone else in particular, but he decided to answer it anyways.

"Sometimes we are asked to make a choice between things we don't want. In times like that, the power to choose is our most powerful ally and our most precious gift."

She said nothing, and instead looked down again.

"I am sorry," he repeated once the silence stretched on.

She glanced up at him and he could see the wetness that was in her eyes.

"I am sorry for not being able to resurrect you completely. The Sacred Gear in your body made it difficult. I am sorry for only giving you this one last chance to choose."

Asia wiped at her eyes and sighed.

"Hyoudou-san said you are a very cold person."

He nodded. That sounded like something Issei would say.

"But I do not think that is true," she smiled at him, "I think you are a very kind person, Arisato-san."

And then her expression turned tentative, nervous almost.

"Will you think any less of me if I decide to become a devil?" she asked.

Metatron would. As would a dozen others, their golden forms radiant upon golden thrones.

But he was not them.

"I do not judge," he finally replied, "I merely accept."

* * *

It was late at night when he headed home. His talk with Asia had been long, and even after it was finished he did not give himself the luxury to rest. Rent didn't pay for itself. The rest of the afternoon was spent traveling to his various jobs and throwing in a few hours of work into them. Luckily they were more in line with the consulting profession and did not involve much physical labor. And they paid well for the few hours he did put in.

Still, he was tired. And it was for that reason he was not completely aware of his surroundings when he trudged up to the stairs to his apartment.

He unlocked the door and walked in.

The first thing he noticed was the lights. They were on. Which was strange considering he checked every morning to make sure they were off before heading to school. He did not need overdue electric bills piling up on his plate.

Then he noticed them, recognized them for what they were, and immediately the barrier that was a Null Light shimmered into view, something he should have cast when he first faced them.

The figure closest to him, the only one that had been standing, dressed in a ridiculously outdated purple suit swallowed and slowly lifted his hands into the air.

"Parley?"

* * *

"You do not understand the implications," the one known as Dohnaseek stared at him from across the table, "of what you have done."

They were sitting in his humble living room, arranged on each side of the wooden desk he used for a dining table. Besides Dohnaseek there were two others, the same ones he had seen in the church, but had not fought. Perched precariously on a stool to his left was Mittelt, the youngest among them, blonde hair styled childishly into twin pigtails. On the outside she appeared cute, innocent even, but he knew enough about the Fallen to disregard that image almost immediately. The more innocent one of their kind appeared to be, the darker their soul was in reality. To his right sat the tall, shapely form of Kalawarner, the tight dress she chose to wear leaving little to the imagination. The woman's dark bangs covered much of her eyes, but he could sense she was watching him, had been watching him ever since he had entered the apartment.

He really did not want to know why she was crisscrossing her legs constantly or maneuvering herself so he could get a better look into her cleavage. He really didn't. It threatened his sanity.

"When the Great War ended, it was the forces of Heaven that suffered the most," the man continued on, "When God was slain, their armies routed from the field, pursued by both the Fallen and the devils. Many Archangels were lost that day, trying in vain to rally their forces. It was only Michael's stalwart defense of the walls of Heaven that the legions of Hell were finally stopped. By then, all three factions had exhausted themselves to the point of extinction. The treaty was signed, but it was clear to all that it was Heaven that had lost the most from the Unending War."

He had remained silent throughout the affair, merely glancing up when the Fallen made a point he did not know, waiting for inevitable reveal that was supposed to amaze him or frighten him.

"Among those that had fallen was Metatron."

Ah. There it was.

"When God fell, it was Metatron alone that refused to leave the battlefield. His armor rent in many places, his silver form bleeding from a hundred wounds, he stood over the body of God and defended it from the encroaching hordes of demons and Fallen. His spear, Inaerion, slew many champions from both sides until at last he was overwhelmed. In his last act of defiance, he hurled Inaerion back into the Heavens so that no foe may claim it as a trophy and then detonated himself in an explosion of light to save God's body from desecration."

Dohnaseek paused, trying to add weight to his words. It was a tactic he was well used to. First from Mitsuru, and recently from Sona. It did not work when the angel tried it. It just made him seem desperate.

"I have seen that spear before I became Fallen. It fell into the Antechamber of Thrones. It remains there still today, untouched and unmoved, for none can come near it without feeling its rage and anger at the death of its wielder. Only Michael has tried to remove it, and when he did, Inaerion burned him with its wrath."

The bearded man turned to look at him, wonder and fear alike shining in his eyes.

"Metatron was the greatest among angels. He was the unyielding wall all of our kind could rely upon. Even amongst the Fallen, we venerate him for his strength, despite hating him as the enemy. And you… you have summoned him."

The Fallen Angel drew back when his expression remained unchanged.

"You have no idea of what is going to happen," the man growled, "Just a single rumor, a single iota of what happened leaks through, and the forces of Heaven would descend upon this place to comb and search for the truth. And when they find you, and should they find what you can do, they will forcibly extract your power from your body so that Metatron may take corporeal form and reign once more. And then he will take up Inaerion, and cast aside the treaty and resume the crusade against the Burning Hells and us. They angels will follow him without question, and the Great War will come once more to devour this world."

There were a lot of assumptions in the man's rant. A lot of assumptions that were both wrong and erroneously made. He could at least correct some of them.

"He will do no such thing."

Dohnaseek scoffed, the arrogant, Fallen side of him coming through.

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because I will not let him."

To his left, Mittelt made a sound that was half between a snort and a laugh.

"You've got to be kidding. A human, ordering around an Archangel? The very idea is dumb," she sneered at him, though from her, it resembled more of a pout than a sneer, "That is provided what you are saying is even true," she turned to her fellow Fallen Angels, frustration evident on her childish features, "Why are we even here? Listening to this stupid prattle? He could by lying to us and all of you are here sitting around him drinking it in!"

"You saw Metatron," Dohnaseek snarled at her, "You saw him appearing behind him. Appearing to punish us."

"It could have been an illusion," the girl crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, "There are Sacred Gears that can do that."

He had no wish to correct her. He had shown the devils his Persona as a gesture of goodwill in return for them telling him the truth. He need not do the same for these Fallen. He owed them nothing.

As it turned out, he didn't need to, as Kalawarner suddenly stood up from her chair, knocking over the flimsy seat in the process.

"Here," the woman tore at the fabric over her shoulder, exposing her skin for the youngest angel to see. He frowned. There, etched upon her flesh, glowed sigils of light, sacred runes he could not hope to comprehend, "This is no illusion. It was carved into our bodies when we woke. I have them. So does Dohnaseek. You have them too," Mittelt growled but did not look into the older Fallen's eyes, "They are the Mark of Penance. Given to those who have sinned but can still be redeemed. They were given to us by _him_, and you will not refuse this honor."

Mittelt's head shot up at those words

"Just because you have a fetish for Metatron doesn't mean I have to do as he says," she all but spat out.

Huh. That would certainly explain the way the woman had been looking at him.

"You dare throw away this chance at redemption!?" Kalawarner hissed, unperturbed at the child's accusation, "Insolent little brat! I should kill you right now for dishonoring his offer!"

"Try it," Mittelt grinned, her face turning into an ugly mask of cruelty, "and I'll wipe the floor with you, you bitch!"

Dohnaseek chose to stand up as well, glaring at the two female Fallen in contempt.

"As your leader, I demand you to stop this bickering! We have more dire things to worry about!"

The two turned to stare at him, anger written on their features.

"Who made you our leader?" Mittelt sneered.

"I do not recall choosing you," Kalawarner glared at her male counterpart.

Dohnaseek drew himself up.

"I was second-in-command to Raynare."

"Yes," Mittelt spat, "and Raynare got her ass kicked by a human. What's your point?"

The man scowled.

"If that is how you wish," his wings extended, black pinions of feather sprouting from his shoulders, "I will make sure the two of you never slip from the leash of discipline again."

Both Fallen females copied his motion, and two more pairs of wings erupted into view.

He sighed as he watched his personal living room about to become a battlefield. It gave him a headache, with all their arguing, and he detested headaches.

He allowed the sudden influx of power to flow through him, seeping into his mind like water from a broken dam, filling his conscience with its indomitable presence.

**Silence.**

Every glass beaker, every porcelain plate, every delicate object within vicinity promptly shattered, hurling shards of broken material in every direction.

He smiled. Voice of God indeed.

They were all looking at him now, the Fallen Angels, staring at him with wide eyes. And then as one, they sank slowly back into their seats.

Good. He lifted his fist from where he had pounded it into the table for emphasis and abruptly the desk split in half, collapsing into a mess of splintered wood and jumbled legs.

A pity. He had gotten it on sale too.

He glanced up to see Dohnaseek and Mittlet regarding him with open-mouthed astonishment.

"No violence at the table."

They nodded dumbly. All except Kalawarner, who watched him with a flushed expression.

"Ah," the woman seemed deliriously happy, and to his mild discomfort one of her hands snaked down and began to rub her thigh seductively, "to be scolded by Metatron-sama."

He shuddered. Fallen Angels. Not even once.

Dohnaseek grinned suddenly.

"There's your answer Mittelt," he smirked. The girl sulked and stared at her feet.

Turning, the bearded man regarded him cautiously.

"Who are you?"

He raised an eyebrow at the Fallen's bluntness.

"Who are you to call upon the power of the Heavens?" Dohnaseek continued on, eyes roving over him as though that alone would reveal the answers he sought, "Who are you to command an Archangel to do your will?"

Such a broad question deserved an equally broad answer.

"I am Minato Arisato," he replied and bent down to retrieve half a tea cup. A shame, really. It had been his favorite one too.

"That's not what I meant!" the man growled, "What kind of being are you to do the things you do!?"

He chose not to respond and instead inclined his head towards the figure that had been lying motionless on his sofa all this time.

"What's wrong with her?"

Dohnaseek turned, momentarily confused. His face darkened when he saw the object of his query.

"You mean you don't know? You were the one who had her judged!"

He shrugged.

"Enlighten me."

"Metatron tore off her wings. A Fallen Angel's rank is determined by the number of wings he or she possesses. She has none. By depriving her of her wings, Metatron has, in effect, stripped her of her status."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I am just a worthless piece of trash," the owner of the voice finally looked up, her once beautiful face lined with bitterness.

Dohnaseek's features tightened.

"I did not say that, Raynare."

"Oh spare me your pity. I can't fly. I can barely cast a light spear. I can barely do anything. I'm no more powerful than a mortal now."

"Hmmm," Mittelt spoke up, "I like this Raynare. She's a lot less haughty than before."

"Shut up, Mittelt."

At once, the child's face lit up with malice.

"Oh? Are you going to make me Raynare? What are you going to do to me now that you can't use your powers? You are trash. Remember those words were yours, not mine."

The former Fallen glared at her oppressor in hatred, but could do nothing and finally looked away. He could see the tears of anger that were threatening to form in the corner of her eyes.

"See?" Mittelt said primly, "I like this Raynare. She knows her place."

"She was once your comrade," Dohnaseek snarled at her, "You could at least act cordial."

"So?" the girl snorted, "She lost any usefulness when she got her wings torn off. We should have just left her in that damn church to rot."

"For someone marked by the Light for redemption," he interjected before an argument could start again, "you have substantially gotten off on the wrong foot."

That shut her up. He turned to Dohnaseek who was still glaring daggers at the youngest Fallen.

"If she is this weak, why have you not taken her away to recover?"

"Well," the man suddenly appeared uncomfortable, "we were hoping you would help with that."

The corners of his mouth lifted upwards into an unpleasant smile. This was going to be interesting.

"A Fallen that has lost her wings is vulnerable. The angels have always hated us. The same goes for devils. If either side finds out what has happened to her, they will not hesitate to take advantage of her condition and terminate her. We were hoping you would grant her a place to stay temporarily. "

He wondered idly if the man had gone mad.

"Why would I do that?"

"You are Metatron's avatar. You are his Voice just as he is the Voice of God. If she cannot be protected by you than there is no place on this Earth where she will be safe."

Is that what they believed?

"She tried to kill me."

Dohnaseek scratched the back of his head uneasily.

"We were hoping you would look past that."

"She tried to kill my friend."

The man grimaced.

"We were hoping you would look past that as well."

He gave him an impassive look.

"You hope too much."

A dry, bitter sound made them turn. Raynare was laughing, though from the look on her face she might as well been crying.

"Kokabiel promised me the world," she croaked out, "He promised me so many things. He tempted me with forbidden knowledge, weapons that would wreathe the world in fire, things that even angels would desire. And I refused them all. And then he tempted me with love, and I fell willingly," the woman pawed at her stomach, where Metatron's blade had slid, "Look at me now. Cast down. Broken. Battered. And now beholden to the tender mercies of a _human_."

"And do you regret all of that?"

She turned to glare at him, and to her credit she did not flinch when he met her gaze with a cold smile.

"I do not regret loving," she hissed, "But I regret everything else. I regret becoming Fallen. I regret doing all of those dark deeds. I regret not spitting in his face as I should have done when he first approached me. But what good is that? What good is regret now that the deeds are already done?"

"You would be surprised," he commented idly, "It was regret that saved your lives, after all."

They stared at him.

"I asked him to kill you," he said, completely unperturbed for it was true, "He asked me to spare you. I agreed, and here all of you are."

"But my wings…" Raynare murmured, "…they were my judgment."

"It should have been your life," he countered and she fell silent.

"Who are you?" Dohnaseek asked again, but this time his voice was trembling, "Who are you to cast judgment upon us? Who are you to have an Archangel plead for our lives? _Who are you?_"

That was a misrepresentation of events. He did not judge. He merely accepted. And Metatron did not plead. It had asked, and he had agreed. In the silence that fell, the man's eyes continued to grow wide until they lit up with realization.

"Nephilim," he finally whispered.

He frowned.

"Nephilim?" Mittelt laughed, though her tone sounded far from sure, "Is that what we're resorting to for an explanation? Legends and old stories?"

She turned, saw the look on his face, and all the haughtiness within her vanished in an instant.

Nephilim.

It was a title, and nothing more.

Sandalphon had called him that when he drew it forth from the fusion of the ultimate Moon Arcana.

Raphael had planted its diamond pommeled blade into the ground and kneeled to say that word to him.

Gabriel had smiled at him when he called it forth from the Arcana of the Empress, and sang that title to him in its soft, melodious voice.

And Metatron. Metatron whom he had made from fusing the greatest of Archangels, whose rank amongst the Heavenly Host was second to none except God Himself. Metatron, whose pride as the Voice of Heaven was renowned almost as much his hatred for the demon. Metatron, who showed only indifference to those that were lower than it, had stared at him behind its gleaming mask when it first appeared in the Velvet Room, summoned by a being that should have been all rights inferior to it.

"Nephilim," it had said, and then bowed its silver head in deference.

He could still remember Igor smiling that crooked smile as they both beheld the heavenly being that floated before them.

"I have been the Proprietor of the Velvet Room for many of your years," the old man had said, fingers steepled under his chin as they always were, "and have seen the unlimited potential humanity has to offer. And this," Igor swept a hand towards the angel of silver and steel, "ranks among the highest peaks," the smile turned into a leer, "You, my friend, have been a most interesting guest."

He had no idea what it had meant then. He still only had an inkling now.

Nephilim. Only a title and nothing more.

They stared at him, the Fallen Angels. Even Raynare, who no longer appeared bitter, who had lost her baleful, harsh expression. It was to her that he nodded to.

"She can stay."

He hated how the iron tone of authority had crept into his voice.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A week had gone by and he was rather surprised it had passed that quickly.

Asia had taken his advice to heart, and when he next saw her again she was up and about, completely healthy, though now a devil instead of a human. He was honestly happy for her. From what little information he could glean from Rias and from the story Asia herself had told him when he sat next to her bed, the girl deserved a second chance. He was considerably less happy though, about the way she treated him after her recovery. The girl had taken to calling him "Angel-san", no doubt in reference to that afternoon he had spent at her side, explaining what he had done and the reason he had done it. It made him wish he had not laid it in so thick, with all the descriptions of the Heavens and the Light and whatnot. He should have omitted some of the more glaring bits of information, and he occasionally kicked himself for not doing so. But then he remembered the suffering the former priestess had gone through, the lies that had been her past life, and the thought of deceiving her was abruptly squashed. She, of all people, deserved to know the truth, and a little discomfort on his part was a sacrifice he was willing to put up with.

Still, it was rather jarring to be walking in the hallway and have a girl suddenly proclaim you as a messenger of Heaven. It brought stares, and not the good kind. So he had taken the girl aside one day and explained to her why calling him an angel in crowded classrooms and busy hallways was not exactly a good idea.

It had gone spectacularly well. And also failed miserably.

"I understand, Angel-san," Asia had nodded seriously after his explanation, "You are trying to remain hidden amongst us so you can help guide people to Heaven," the girl had then leaned in close to conspiratorially whisper, "Don't worry, I will do my best to keep your identity a secret."

And so she had stopped calling him angel in public, which was good, and continued calling him that in private, which was bad because as the newest member of Rias's peerage, private meant that it was inevitable for the rest of the devils to overhear.

Rias had been immensely amused, as was Akeno. For the next few days he had been flooded with innuendo from the two, with Rias proclaiming it would be a grand thing for her to have the first angel in history to join a devil's peerage and Akeno asking if he would purge her if she had impure thoughts.

If only he could.

Asia's inclusion into Rias's peerage had also brought another unforeseen side-effect, mainly her influence on Issei. The former priestess seemed to consider the boy her savior for his attempt at rescuing her, and though the attempt had failed, it did not dull the enthusiasm to which she clung to him. If Issei was seen, then Asia was always in tow, fretting over the boy and smiling lovingly at him when he faced her. Issei, for all his perversity, had not known what to do at first when it was female attention applied to him and not the other way around. In the times he was with them and Asia had done something to cause the boy to blush, Issei would always look to him for help, begging him with his eyes to extract him from some uncomfortable situation. He made sure in those times that he always had some emergency conveniently at hand to attend to, leaving the devil to his well-deserved fate.

He considered that suitable revenge for having to sit through the endless sessions of harem talk Issei had forced upon him.

Those days had gone by rather comfortably, and even Rias had lessened the peerage requests she had been giving him. With Asia's inclusion, the devil had been busy instructing the newest member of her group. He was glad for the peace. Perhaps that was why time seemed to pass so quickly.

And then something had happened, something that seemed to affect not only Rias, but her entire peerage as well. The next time he saw them, gathered together in their clubroom, there was a palpable sense of gloom hanging over their heads. The only clue he received was Issei muttering something about a 'Grilled Chicken'. From the way the boy gnashed his teeth and talked about increasingly more violent ways to beat into a pulp said 'Grilled Chicken', he had at first concluded that their entire group had come down with a mild case of indigestion and were plotting their revenge on the restaurant that had served them the dish.

Of course, it had not been that, and he had surmised it was something far more ominous when Rias continued her attempts to recruit him into her peerage with even greater zeal than before. There was something different though, about her ways. Where once those attempts had carried a certain amount of teasing, a certain amount of mischief, now they held the unwelcome presence of desperation, and he did not know why.

It was for that reason that when she asked him to accompany them on a trip to train in an isolated area far from school grounds that he accepted.

* * *

The clearing was in the middle of the forest, surrounded by lush vegetation, and bordered by dense undergrowth. It was a secluded place, far from prying eyes, and had he not had a guide to follow he would have been easily lost. He had to give Rias credit. The devil knew how to pick secret locations. His gaze wandered around the surrounding scenery, taking note of the kicked up dirt on the ground and the deep, charred marks on the trees that could not have been made naturally. Some of them were fresh. But that was within reason. Rias had told him this was where they went to practice with their Sacred Gears, where they trained as a team and tested out new strategies.

He sat on a nearby log, observing as the other members of the trip talked amongst themselves. Their words were muffled and purposefully guarded. He understood. Whatever intentions Rias may have had for him, he was still not a member of her peerage, a position he would staunchly preserve. That meant whatever private words she may have had for her servants, he was not allowed to hear. That suited him just fine. If Rias wanted to tell him, she would do so in her own good time.

He watched as one of the figures detached himself from the group and began striding towards him.

Yuuto Kiba. Third year student, and arguably the most popular boy in the academy, if not for his dashing good looks then certainly for his earnest charm. Like Rias, he had a particular sincerity to him, and the way he always smiled when doing anything made him very easy to approach. His legion of secret admirers attested to that fact. They had nearly trampled him once, when he had the misfortune to cross the boy's path in the hallway. The stream of fan girls had crushed him to a wall and held him there for minutes while they sighed and giggled excitedly amongst each other as Kiba passed. Of course, that was when he knew him as a human and not a devil.

Now after spending some time with Rias's peerage, he wondered how much of that charm was faked. The boy still smiled, still spoke courteously in private, but there were times he caught the devil staring off into the distance, as though reminiscing about something. He had once been human. Rias had told him that, and Kiba had further elaborated, though the version of events he gave was brief and succinct. But from what he knew about devil resurrections, the boy had died once before being raised, and he did not doubt for a second that there might have been something dark in his history that eventually led to that fate.

There was also the issue of peerages, though in Kiba's case it was more of a nonissue. Rias and Akeno both pursued him relentlessly about joining. Issei was surprisingly the most enthusiastic about the idea. Asia, being the newest member, was only beginning to settle in and had very little say, but he knew she would welcome him amongst them. Koneko was always quiet but from the sometimes clinical gazes he would receive from her, he guessed that at the very least, the girl would assent to his inclusion due to the power he could wield. It was only Kiba that was neutral on the matter, and besides the part he played in intercepting Tsubaki, had little to do with Rias's attempts to lure him in.

Instinctively, he knew respect from the boy did not come freely. It had to be earned.

It reminded him of Akihiko. Complete with fan girl following.

He stood up as Kiba approached, and his eyes focused on the objects the devil had slung over his shoulder.

How interesting.

"You are proficient with these?" the handsome boy asked and tossed him one of the two swords he was carrying. He caught it by the hilt and twirled it about his wrist, relishing in the familiarity of holding a blade once more. Swords had been his favorite weapon to use in the Tower, and more than a few Shadows had perished by his hand and the steel it had held.

"Not bad," Kiba smiled, "It's good to see a potential Bishop have some expertise in close combat."

The devil saw his bemused expression and chuckled.

"I'm sorry. I am getting ahead of myself. Sona explained the Rating Game to you, but she left out some of the more minute details. In short, should you ever join our Buchou's peerage or any peerage for that matter, your rank would be Bishop."

"Bishop," he repeated the word, none the wiser.

"Yes. A rank is determined by what the piece is good at. I, myself, am a Knight, and my specialty is close combat and speed. Generally, that's what all Knights are good at, but the Sacred Gears they use will be different. Koneko over there," Kiba gestured to the petite girl standing near Rias, "is a Rook. She may not look like it, but she can take and dish out a lot of punishment. That's the difference between Knights and Rooks. Knights are very fast, but they are rather fragile. Glass cannons, if you will. Rooks, on the other hand, can absorb a lot of damage, but they are usually quite slow."

He nodded in understanding and watched as the devil performed some complicated sword motions of his own.

"Akeno is our queen. She has all the strengths of a Bishop, a Knight, and a Rook combined. Besides Rias, she would be our most important piece in a Rating Game. Issei, as he might have told you, is our only pawn. Normally a peerage will contain any numbers of pawns but when our Buchou resurrected Issei, she had to use all eight pieces," the devil paused, as though if thinking of something and then shook his head before continuing, "The last rank is Bishop, and unlike the earlier ranks, they tend to be ranged pieces. Which is why you would be one. The power you have shown, the ability to use elemental fire and ice as well as heal yourself, would make you a very good Bishop."

"I see," he replied, "And Asia. She would be a Bishop as well?"

Kiba smiled at him.

"Exactly. Her talent for healing makes her a powerful piece, but one that needs to be guarded closely. That's actually the norm for all Bishops. They tend to be vulnerable should they be engaged in close combat. And that's why I am here. To test your melee capabilities, so we can judge how much effort we need to expend to keep you safe in a Rating Game."

He stared at the blade in his hand and then at the devil who had given it to him.

"I do not intend to be a part of Rias's peerage."

His counterpart flourished his sword and then brought it up to his face in a dueler's salute.

"So you say," Kiba tilted his head in acknowledgment, "Nevertheless, indulge me."

And then he lunged.

He saw the gleaming tip heading for him, and for a split-second he was paralyzed with indecision. Then his instincts took over, and though they were dulled from months of disuse, he still managed to bring his blade up and parry the oncoming thrust.

"Good," the devil's voice was filled with approval, "Again."

This time it was an overhead chop, deceptive in its simplicity. Block it directly and his adversary's strength would fully smash into him and jar the sword from his hand. He rose to counter, but allowed his blade to tilt so when Kiba's came crashing down, it slid off at an angle.

The two swords squealed against each other before parting. His opponent gave him an amused glance.

"That is an unusual form."

Before he could reply Kiba moved to attack again, and suddenly he was beset by a whirlwind of precisely placed sword strokes that were so fast they appeared as blurs in his vision. He barely managed to keep up, falling back on his combat instincts to guide him as he struggled against the unrelenting assault. Eventually one had to give, and a sudden pain in his shoulder, told him it had been him. They both drew back, him wincing and Kiba smiling. He glanced to his side and saw the hole in his uniform, the place where the boy's blade had nicked.

"First blood to me," his opponent said.

He shook his head and pointed with his sword towards Kiba's own shoulder, and the devil followed his aim to where a slight gash had opened in the fabric of his shirt.

"A draw then," Kiba seemed impressed by that fact. He planted his blade into the ground and leaned on the hilt, "You are a lot better at this than I expected, Arisato-san. Tell me, who taught you?"

No one had. There had not exactly been weapon trainers in the Tower. What he knew, what he learned had been forged from hours spent combating Shadows on each floor. Fighting in life-threatening circumstances had made for good practice, and with each Shadow he killed he had gained experience in wielding a blade.

"I learned on the fly," he chose to answer.

"Must have been some difficult circumstances, then," the devil replied with a knowing smile. The boy took a moment to look at him, a thoughtful expression on his face, "If a pawn chose to try and terminate you, I believe they would be in for a nasty surprise. It is not often you see a Bishop that is so proficient in melee. But should you face a Rook or a Knight, you would still be in considerable trouble."

His eyebrows rose. He did not disbelieve the boy's words, but to say it with such certainty? It was almost akin to arrogance.

Kiba noticed the change in his demeanor and chuckled.

"I will show you what I mean."

And then he promptly vanished. It took him a moment to realize the devil had accelerated from rest so fast that his eyes had led him into thinking he had disappeared. It took another moment to process that such speed should be impossible, yet he had been witness to it. The sword tip at his throat further reinforced the fact. Except it wasn't a sword anymore. He glanced sideways towards the smiling Kiba who had appeared behind him in the time it took him to blink. And then his gaze dropped down to the weapon the devil had summoned and held to his neck. It was an ugly, serrated thing of greenish steel, glowing with eerie light. There was a dark and ominous presence to it too, and he could almost feel the malevolence that lay beneath the blade's surface.

"Yield?"

He nodded and the boy withdrew the weapon from his throat.

"It is a demon sword," Kiba explained, "That is what my Sacred Gear is. Sword Birth. The ability to create and use demon swords."

The sword-user stepped back and spread his arms wide. In response, half a dozen blades materialized around him, orbiting slowly around his body, each as different and varied as the last.

"Every demon sword has a unique property," the devil said good-naturedly, "Some of them are like your Personas. They can set alight enemies when swung or freeze them when they connect. Others are different and they can strengthen their wielder in various ways. And that is why Knights and Rooks are so dangerous. Knights, more so. They have Sacred Gears comparable to mine, as well as the speed to catch you unawares. If they manage to get you within melee range, they will not hesitate to put you down."

He nodded again, this time in understanding. It was sound advice, and graciously given. He could appreciate that. But there were some things Kiba had assumed of him, had presumed of him, that were simply untrue. His rank as a Bishop and his helplessness against Knights chief among them.

"This sword," he lifted his blade by the hilt, "You do not need it anymore?"

Kiba looked at him strangely.

"It is a spare. Why?"

He did not reply. Already he was reaching into his mind, calling out to the myriad of consciences linked to his own, offering the blade in his hand as a medium. They hesitated. He did not blame them. Sword Fusion required the sacrifice of a Persona, the loss of a manifestation to be effective, and the rewards were not always great. In many cases the manifestation itself was far more powerful than the weapon that was created. That, and the Personas themselves took issue with it. The human mind was a sea of unlimited vastness, an ocean of limitless boundaries, with plenty of space for thoughts to drift. The confined area of a Nihil weapon was in comparison an iron box, surrounded by hard limitations with barely the room to move, and Personas, beings that were forged from endless potential, abhorred being imprisoned in such a manner.

The only consolation that he could offer them was the sword itself. It was made of normal steel, and did not possess the innate properties of a Nihil weapon. That meant it could not hold the power of a Persona for long before its very structure started breaking down. A temporary vessel, inferior and substandard, yet suitable for the purpose at hand. The only trick was persuading a Persona to enter the blade and so far, none had been willing.

Finally, one of them answered and immediately he grasped at it, feeling the pulling in his mind as he imbued it into the sword, channeling the Persona slowly into the blade. Like flowing water the weapon began to change, the steel running down like molten wax as the entity within it sought to morph it into the aspect it represented. Soon, the blade barely resembled a blade at all.

He looked down at the altered sword and fought hard not to smile.

Her name had once been Clarent. Placed on the shoulders of righteous knights who knelt to receive their knighthoods from a legendary king. Carried in peacetime to attend joyous ceremonies and solemn occasions. And while she could not match the splendor and magnificence that was her sister sword, Excalibur, Clarent had her own unique beauty to her, a modest, humble beauty that drew men of dignity and loyalty from far away lands to gaze upon her majesty. For while Excalibur was the martial prowess of Arthur made in blade form, the long reach of his wrath taken shape, Clarent represented a different set of ideals entirely. Peace. Balance. Harmony. It was for that reason Arthur never took her into battle, never unsheathed her to draw blood, never used her as a sword should be used. She would forever be an ornament instead of a weapon, but that did not take away from her grandeur. A virgin blade embodied the soul of a kingdom that no longer needed war to guard its borders or blood to maintain the safety of its people.

And the people _loved_ her for it.

It was the fervent hope of all within Camelot that one day Arthur would set aside Excalibur forever and take up Clarent in her stead, ruling through peace instead of war.

And then treacherous hands had snatched her from her blessed pedestal, and she had been carried into battle, breaking the most sacred of vows, the ring of steel her screams of horror, the clash of metal her cries of lamentation. And on the fields of Camlann, where dying horses churned the dirt into mud with their death throes, where brother fought brother and men tore at each other's throats, she had finally been sullied with the blood of the one she had meant to rule with.

Clarent died that day. Her holy form forever broken by that dark act, she had been twisted and warped until she became a tainted mockery of what she once was.

Treachery stained the heart black. With a blade it transformed it into something far more sinister. Where once her surface shone like polished quicksilver, blackened metal was there instead, forever dulled with the sin of betrayal. The once straightened edge, so perfect that it could have been balanced on a pinpoint, was now jagged with serrated fins, resembling the toothed maw of some primordial beast. Where the grip met cross-guard, a great jewel once rested, etched into the steel itself. The jewel was still there, but its brilliance had long ago faded, turned to murky dimness, and if one looked closely, one could see the slit-like pupil swimming underneath. A great, unblinking eye, forever cursed to remain open, forever haunted so that it may relive that moment of treachery over and over, all those hundreds of years ago.

The Black Sword. The Edge of Betrayal. _The Coward's Blade._

"Thank you, Mordred," he murmured.

He looked up, to where his opponent was watching him with wide eyes.

"That is a demon sword," Kiba said, remarkably serene, remarkably calm despite what he had just witnessed, "You can summon demon swords."

It was an approximation of what he could do, but it was not far off the mark. He could summon demon swords. And heavenly swords. Or any sword for that matter, as long as he could call upon the Persona that once wielded it. And even if the Persona itself wielded no armaments, he could still imbue their power into a Nihil weapon, trapping their essence into the bladed prison for use.

"I do not recognize it," Kiba admitted, his gaze roaming across the weapon's surface. The perturbed expression on the normally cheerful boy's face spoke volumes of how affected he was by that admission. For one whose Sacred Gear involved the creation and maintenance of demon swords, not knowing a forbidden blade when it appeared in front of you was almost akin to sacrilege.

"Clarent," he supplied helpfully.

"Mordred," the devil replied back automatically, "He used that sword to wound Arthur Pendragon."

Ah. So he knew. Kiba frowned.

"I have read the legends. I do not recall it becoming a demon sword."

He blamed the historians for that one. Humans always liked to embellish. It was that case with Excalibur, whose legend grew even after she was returned to the Lady of the Lake. Chroniclers saw the glory she had won in countless battlefields and chose to record that. Clarent had never been a war blade, had never slain dragons or vanquished impossible foes. Her existence had always been a quiet one. As a result, her significance, the ideals she represented, the tragedy that was ultimately her fate, was forgotten by all but a select few.

It was much the same for the rest of Arthurian legend. Even the tale of Mordred, whose deeds were counted among the blackest of treacheries, whose list of crimes grew every time his story was retold.

It had never been Mordred who truly betrayed Arthur. That honor belonged to Lancelot and Guinevere, whose forbidden love would eventually destroy the kingdom Arthur had bled to create. Mordred had just been there to pick up the pieces. Even on the field of Camlann, where Clarent's purity was shattered, Mordred had been reluctant to engage, stalling for time so that the temporary truce would gain weight. And when the battle seemed inevitable, it had never been Mordred who struck the first blow. Arthur's knights had charged first.

He knew this because Mordred had told him. He knew this because Arthur had confirmed it.

It was perhaps the most fitting of ironies that a blade so stained with treachery was used by one who had not wished for it in the first place.

He wrapped his fingers around the hilt, feeling the dark feelings coalesce beneath the steel, grimacing as black thoughts raged into his mind. He lifted it and pointed the corrupted sword towards his opponent's distant chest. It was an unmistakable gesture of challenge.

Kiba raised an eyebrow in response.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you Arisato-san?" the handsome boy said, and there was genuine warmth in his tone.

He had ten minutes. Ten minutes before Mordred's power became too much and the sword reverted back to its normal, unaltered state. Ten minutes to defeat a devil who could create swords of his own and imbue them with demonic energies. Ten minutes to beat a foe who was faster than him, stronger than him, and possibly more experienced than him.

He welcomed the challenge. He had faced worse.

* * *

The final blow came not because he was superior to his foe in swordsmanship, but because Kiba had overextended. The devil lunged, using his superior speed in the hopes of outflanking him. As the boy shot past, he kicked a leg out, and Kiba tripped over it, tumbling head over heels until he landed heavily on his back. And then the Black Sword was at his throat, just as the demon sword had once been at his.

It was a remarkably off-putting way to end a duel between swordsmen. One was expected to adhere to certain rules of chivalry. Tripping an opponent was hardly chivalrous. But he was not bothered by this fact. Shadows had never been chivalrous. Why should he?

He looked down to his opponent, who was wearing a strangely satisfied smile on his face.

"Yield."

Kiba sighed, and the blade he had been using fell from his hand and vanished.

"I yield."

Just in time too. He sensed his Persona's influence overloading the medium that was the blade, infusing the weapon with power it could not hope to hold. He withdrew the sword from Kiba's throat and saw the faint trails of smoke emitting from its blackened surface. The request sank into his conscience. He allowed it and instantly he could feel Mordred's presence returning back into his mind. He smiled thinly. Even the dour knight that had taken up Arthur's place in the king's absence did not wish to stay long in the sinking ship that was a dissolving blade. And that was what it was doing. As his eyes flickered back to the weapon in his hand, it was to see the sword disappearing amidst a cloud of black smoke, the blade hissing as its very molecules broke down and succumbed to the power it had been forced to bear.

Such was the punishment of forcing immense power into an inferior vessel and why Nihil weapons were needed to contain even the weakest of Personas.

His gaze turned to Kiba who was eyeing the last remnants of the sword disappearing in his hand with a slightly miffed expression

"If I had lasted a few more seconds," the boy complained, "I would have won."

But he hadn't. He told him that and Kiba reluctantly nodded.

"You're right, I suppose."

The devil offered a hand to him and after a second of hesitation he took it, pulling his opponent back up. The sword-user grinned in thanks and then threw an arm around his shoulders in a comradely fashion.

"So you can summon demon weapons."

The two began walking back towards where the rest of the Occult Club was waiting for them. At his cautious nod, Kiba continued on.

"And you can make them last. Corporeal. Though judging from Clarent you would need stronger material."

The boy was quick. He nodded again. Kiba's arm tightened around his shoulders.

"You are going to make me one."

He frowned. That was a request he would not take lightly. It was not that he couldn't make them. He could. He just wouldn't. Nihil weapons could become incredibly powerful when fused with the correct Persona, often taking the form of the weapons the Persona itself had used in life or legend. The first Nihil weapon he had created was made not for him but for Yukari. The girl had been depressed ever since she had learned the truth about the death of her father, and though he had comforted her on that deserted beach, he knew that she also needed a different form of closure.

So he had formed the first weapon, a great bow of lacquered wood, and he had infused it with the Persona of Minamoto no Tametomo, the legendary archer who had once sunk a boat filled with enemy warriors with a single arrow. He had presented it to Yukari who had given him a brilliant smile in return and they along with the rest of SEES had ascended the Tower that very night, fully intending to test the weapon and in the process allow the girl some form of vengeance against the Shadows that had taken her father.

It had been a remarkably fast and brutal affair.

They had seen the first Shadow, lurking in the corridor, and Yukari had taken aim with the Nihl Bow and let loose. The arrow had predictably pierced it, going right through the Shadow as though it wasn't there. Then it had gone on to pierce the wall behind and then the wall after that, flying through multiple barriers, spearing through them like a needle through paper. When at last it stopped, halted by the outermost wall, the arrow had detonated, exploding in a flash of purple light and blowing a house-sized hole into the Tower itself. They had ventured towards the opening, stunned, and gaped at the fifty story drop that awaited them.

And Minamoto had not exactly been his strongest Persona. Neither was Mordred, for that matter. Tragic as the story of Clarent was, its wielder was still a Persona derived from a legend, and at best he ranked mid-tier among the hierarchy, below angels and demons, and far below gods. That meant the corrupted form of Clarent, demon sword as it was, was still of middling quality. He held Personas far stronger whose weapons when interpreted literally, could sink continents and boil the Earth's oceans into vapor.

And that was the thing with Personas. They almost always interpreted things literally.

Yukari had carried the bow ever since, and with good reason. Its power far surpassed what they found in the chests sequestered away in the corners of the Tower. Yukari also liked to use it for a different purpose. When his relationship with Mitsuru was rumored, the girl often carried it with her into their dormitory's living room, making a show of polishing it and caring for it whenever Mitsuru happened to be present. To her credit, Mitsuru had shown commendable restraint when dealing with the issue, and had for the most part, ignored her rival. That did not prevent the heiress from asking him to make a weapon for her as well, however, on the rare occasions she invited him into her room. He had agreed, and already had a design in mind. A rapier with a hilt that resembled the intertwined stems of a rose. And then Nyx had come, and making a weapon for his lover became the last thing on his mind.

He had not made one for her due to time. He would not make one for him because he had no reason to. He had no wish to part with any of his Personas, nor did he wish to see power gathered into the palm of one whose intentions he was not clear on. He couldn't tell Kiba that of course.

"I would require a Nihil weapon," technically it was not an excuse, for it was true.

"I have no idea what that is," Kiba responded cheerfully, "But I will find one for you nonetheless."

Devils. He had been in their presence for not an insignificant amount of time and still he was getting used to their brash confidence and assertive demeanor. With humans such self-assuredness could be construed as arrogance, or perhaps even ignorance. But they were devils, not humans, and it was in their nature. He would not judge them for that.

Their steps swiftly brought them before the members of the Occult Club, who he noticed had stopped what they were doing to watch the fight. Rias was giving him a contemplative stare.

"Ara, ara, Arisato-kun," predictably, it was Akeno who spoke first, "that was very impressive. I have never seen someone who can match Yuuto while looking just as good!"

He supposed that was a compliment.

"Thank you," he replied.

"That was awesome Arisato-san!" Issei cheered. He turned to the girl by his side and grinned, "See? I told you you shouldn't worry! Arisato-san is very strong!"

Asia smiled, her arms wrapped around Issei's.

"That was cool Angel-san," she murmured.

His lips twitched. Of course.

"Hey," Kiba spread his arms wide in a disarming gesture, "don't I get any compliments?"

"You're supposed to compliment the one who won," Akeno mock-chided, "not the one who lost."

"In my defense," the sword-user shrugged, "I was still kind of in shock he can summon demon swords."

"And that is the issue, isn't it?" Rias cut in, her eyes never having left him, "You can summon demon swords, yet you don't have the Sacred Gear to do so," she hesitated, "Unless it was one of those Personas you told us about."

He nodded.

"Yes. It was a Persona."

Kiba seemed taken aback by that admission.

"But that blade. It was a demon sword. I felt its presence."

He turned to look at him.

"The Persona in the sword was not a very nice person."

It was true. While Mordred had never truly betrayed Arthur, he still had been an ironclad ruler and a ruthless knight. And while it was Lancelot and Guinevere who had been the ones that laid the foundations for Arthur's kingdom to fall, it still had been Mordred who rammed Clarent into the legendary king's chest. Betrayal still clung thick to the black knight's frame, despite him never having the intent to be treacherous.

"We've seen you use Personas to conjure fire and ice," Rias said slowly, "We've seen them heal you. And now we've seen them become demon swords. What can they not do?"

"Nothing," he replied.

"That is an assumption that requires a lot of proof," Koneko spoke up.

He frowned. They were right to be skeptical. There were still some things that surprised even him about the beings that dwelled beneath his conscience.

"Personas are representations of the mind," he said finally, "As long as the mind is open, the potential of Personas are endless. They are without limit."

"The things you say and do should be impossible," the red-haired devil shook her head slowly, "But somehow, when it comes from you, I believe them," she flashed him an alluring smile, "Are you sure you don't want to join my peerage? We can make it worth your while."

"Ah, an attack so soon?" Akeno smirked, "I recall you offered him the same terms before we went on this trip."

Rias blushed.

"Maybe he reconsidered."

They did realize he was right there, didn't they?

"I am not opposed to the suggestion," Kiba smiled, "We can always use another piece that is proficient in close combat on the team."

Now that was unexpected. He had never heard the sword-user ever support Rias's attempts to court him into her peerage. Kiba had always been steadfastly neutral in that regard. No more, it seemed.

"Besides," the boy clapped a hand on his shoulder, "it wouldn't give you an excuse not to make me one of your demon swords."

Hmm. He would have to rescind his opinion about this one. Not only was he quick, he was cunning as well.

"Um," Asia touched her index fingers together in a meek gesture, "I would like it very much if Angel-san was in the same peerage as us," then she looked down, as though ashamed, "But I would understand if he doesn't want to. Angels can't consort with devils like us, after all."

Now that just wasn't fair.

"If you join Buchou's peerage, Arisato-san," Issei said seriously, "we can become more than just friends."

…

Really?

Rias groaned. Akeno giggled. Kiba just looked amused.

"What?" Issei looked around him in confusion.

"I did not know our young pawn rolled that way," Akeno sang, "But who am I to judge? I will be cheering for your love, Hyoudou-kun."

This just made Issei even more confused.

"What love?"

He fought the urge to sigh. For being a pervert, the boy was remarkably pure-minded. And he was not the only one. By his side, Asia looked just as confused.

"I also do not understand, Himejima-san," the former priestess admitted, "Why would Hyoudou-san want to roll that way?"

"Well," the black-haired beauty grinned mischievously, "when a boy loves a boy…"

Rias promptly covered her friend's mouth before a far lewder explanation could come out. But Akeno's suggestion had already done its damage.

Issei looked flabbergasted at the older girl's words.

"I didn't mean that! What I meant was that Arisato-san and I could become rivals!" the pervert hurriedly turned to him when he realized the rest was still smiling at him, "I like boobs! Breasts! I'm sorry Arisato-san, but you don't have any so I can't like you!"

He was not sorry at all. In fact, he was rather glad of that fact.

As Issei continued to protest, he looked to the girl by his side, who seemed like she was concentrating on something particularly interesting.

"Boys… can love boys?" Asia murmured.

He had an inkling of what she was thinking of. He was proven correct when seconds later, the girl's cheeks turned bright red.

"Ah… I just had a very dirty thought," she stole a glance towards him and Issei, "But somehow it was also gave me a good feeling."

He considered lighting Akeno on fire, and then realized that would probably land him in prison. But then again, he could always break out. Personas were useful like that.

When Issei finally calmed down, Rias gave him a hopeful smile.

"Well?"

"Alright!" Akeno clapped before he could say anything, "An all-out attack into Arisato-kun's cold, icy heart!"

He looked around him neutrally. His answer, like the last time, would always be the same.

"No."

"Ah," Rias accepted his decision with commendable grace, "Well, it was worth a try."

"The attack," Akeno nodded gravelly, "was not very effective."

"How can you say no, Arisato-san?" he was not at all surprised that came from Issei, "We need your help! Especially against that Grilled Chicken!"

He turned to the boy, eyebrow raised.

"I am here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I meant!" Issei seemed unusually zealous today, "You can do all these different things but you can't help us? I don't believe that! With your help we can defeat the Grilled Chicken and Buchou won't have to go through with the-"

Rias held up a hand, and Issei fell silent, though his jaw was clenched.

"I am sorry, Arisato-san," the girl said sincerely, "My pawn has spoken of something that concerns me and only my peerage. However, I will not deny that should you lend us your aid, it would make the upcoming fight a lot more even."

He gave her an inquisitive glance.

"It is a Rating Game, then."

"Yes," Rias admitted, "and one I solely need to win."

And therein lay the issue. To help in a Rating Game would mean he would have to become one amongst her peerage, and that meant becoming a devil. And that was something he was not willing to do.

"I do not wish to become a devil," he said at last.

Rias nodded in acceptance, though the boy at her side did not.

"You say that as though it's a bad thing," Issei mumbled.

"No. Not bad," he searched for the words, and finally settled on one, "Undesirable."

"Hmm," Akeno hummed, "it saddens me to think that Arisato-kun thinks we are undesirable."

He did not miss the sudden glint in her eye. Nor the way Asia looked incredibly hurt. Perhaps it was the wrong choice of words.

"I do not wish to sacrifice my humanity," he tried.

"I sacrificed mine," Issei pointed out, "I became a devil to help Buchou and then to protect Argento-san! And that's what you should do for friends! Sacrifice things to protect them!"

A part of him laughed at the declaration. He had made the ultimate sacrifice, when he ascended the Tower to face the ending of creation and died so that humanity would not feel her touch. He had sealed himself in cold stone, became the very gates that prevented Erebus from reaching the dormant Nyx, and had been prepared to spend an eternity shielding mankind from the folly of its own emotions. The meaning of sacrifice was ingrained into the very fiber of his being, and here, now, he was being lectured on it by one who had barely gleaned its surface.

The rest of him accepted that they had no way of knowing what he had done and would not believe it even if he had told them. They would not understand, and he could not blame them for not understanding what they had not seen.

"There are some things you do not understand," he said simply.

"I understand enough," the devil retorted, "And I have a way of making you understand what I mean too."

Did he now?

"A duel, like the one you and Kiba-san had," Issei stared at him challengingly, "And if I win, you have to join Buchou's peerage."

He gazed at the boy impassively. He could admire his determination to help Rias, and his loyalty to those in her peerage, but sometimes that translated into a recklessness not even Junpei had possessed. Still, if Issei wanted a fight, he would give him one, albeit with slight modifications to the terms presented.

"And if I win," he said softly, "you will speak no more of peerages to me. No more requests. No more suggestions. Not a single word."

Rias suddenly looked very worried.

"Deal," Issei snapped before his master could interject.

His lips curled upwards into a small smile. Wonderful. He swiveled on his feet and strode towards the far end of the clearing. When he looked back, it was to see Rias giving the boy an earful, no doubt scolding him for walking into the trap he had set. Issei shrugged her aside, marching determinedly to face him on the opposite side of the field.

"To be honest," the devil said when they both reached their respective places, "I'm fired up from watching you and Kiba-san fight. You are strong, Arisato-san, and I want to be as strong as you."

He inclined his head slightly at this praise.

"Which is why we need your strength in Buchou's peerage!" the boy clenched a hand into a fist, "And if that means I have to fight you to have it, then so be it! I won't have any regrets!"

That sounded suitably heroic.

He raised a palm, and beckoned with his fingers. The universal gesture to begin.

"I'm not going to hold back, Arisato-san," Issei said seriously, and then the surge of energy was there, enveloping the devil's body, suffusing the boy with waves of power.

Boosted Gear appeared, red gauntlet segmented with spiked plate. The green jewel shone in its middle, surrounded by silver digits that were more talon than finger. A dragon's claw was what it looked like, had it been sheathed in crimson metal. He had seen this before, in the student council room, where Issei had first shown him proof that Sacred Gears existed. Even then, he had sensed the draconic power emitting from the weapon, the growling being that was trapped in the gauntlet, powering it with its unnatural strength.

He had been curious, but had resigned himself to never knowing the answer to that particular puzzle. It was Issei's Gear after all, and he was not one to pry. Now it appeared he was about to get a first-hand look.

His lips twitched, threatening to smile again. Fate was strange like that sometimes.

If a dragon was what he was up against, then he would summon a similar beast to fight it.

Othrus came to the forefront of his mind, the snarling, two-headed dog of Greek mythology. The Hound of Geryon was just as vicious if not more so, and with its poisoned fangs and venomous breath, there were few that could stand before it.

"Boost!" and then Issei's voice rang out and Othrus was discarded, deemed too weak to face this fresh surge of strength.

He frowned. So this was how Sacred Gears worked. Sona had given him a decent description of 'Boosting', as the devils called it, but seeing it happening in the flesh was a different matter entirely. He could feel the power in Issei's body multiplying at a prodigious rate, becoming stronger with every passing second. It put complications into his battle plan, but complications were things he was used to overcoming.

If Othrus would not do, then Valkyrie would. The beautiful war-maidens of Nordic lore were warriors without peer. They rode the finest steeds granted to them by Odin himself, and their blades had tasted the blood of drake-kind before. The Persona rose in his mind, her features set in bronze, ready to be summoned. And then Issei's voice rang out once more and she too, was discarded.

"Boost!"

Zouchouten, Defender of Law in Buddhist faith, Guardian of the South, bowed in his mind. Capable of summoning mythical beasts to defend the faithful, it had the power to split mountains and hurl bolts of lightning from its hands. This one would have to do.

"Boost!"

And then it too was discarded, sinking into the depths of his conscience as a new Persona took its place.

Rakshasa, armored demon of Hindu lore, crawled into his mind. It and its kind had once been wicked humans before being reincarnated into their current forms, crimson avatars of malice that ate the flesh of the beings they once had been. The Persona crossed its twin scimitars in a menacing gesture and he could feel the demon's unholy hunger, secreting from underneath the horned mask it wore.

"Boost!"

Now this was getting obscene.

Rakasha disappeared, and for an instant he groped at nothing. Inwardly he marveled at the power of Issei's Gear. Its ability to boost was actually overtaking his ability to call for different Personas. He had gravely misjudged the boy's strength. If there was a Wild Card amongst Sacred Gears, then Boosted Gear was definitely it.

And then he felt the surge in his conscience, the power that was a Persona breaking through to the surface, demanding to be unleashed.

_I will face this whelp._

The voice that snaked into his mind was ragged and guttural, filled with snarling malevolence, anchored by a throat that once had expelled molten streams of fire onto screaming men and left them as charred corpses in scorched armor.

The urge to smile was there. He refused it. It was not within his nature to gloat.

The slight nod of his head was all the Persona needed and then he could feel the wave of power, the great tide of strength that rushed forth as he allowed the unbroken dam that was his conscience to shatter.

It did not manifest, and for a second he was confused. Then he looked down, and the urge to smile came again.

Dark steel wrapped around his hand in a glove, a gauntlet of black metal with bronze claws for fingers. He flexed them, and each responded, the curved talons clacking methodically as they were exercised. Segmented armor pushed upwards, chitinous plates that crawled up his forearm and fastened to his flesh like a sheathe. He turned the completed weapon around, and there, on the back of his palm, a blood-red jewel gleamed, contrasting sharply with the emerald green of his opponent.

He was not surprised it could do this. He was surprised it had chosen this manner to appear.

But then again dragons had always been prideful creatures, and when they challenged their opponents they made sure the fight was always on equal grounds. And the strongest among them, the most powerful ones, had been shapeshifters and bodychangers, and legends were filled with dragons taking the forms of handsome men, beautiful women, and sometimes, dangerous weapons.

He lifted the False Gear up, the perfect imitation of Issei's Boosted Gear down to the very last detail, and looked into their stunned faces.

And he hadn't even needed a Nihil weapon to make it.

_Edit: I made a mistake regarding Issei's Sacred Gear. As some of you have pointed out it is Boosted Gear and not Balance Breaker. I apologize for messing up. It's late at night and I was kind of drifting when I made the last edits. Thanks for reading._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_I smell his scent upon your skin…_

The voice purred into his conscience, but its words were directed his opponent.

Issei came at him from the front, a charging blur. The crimson gauntlet rose in a fist. He frowned.

_I feel his air on your flesh…_

His own glove batted aside the blow, and his palm, the one unarmored by the False Gear sneaked below the devil's guard.

He pushed and Issei flew back, tossed through the air like a rag doll. The boy somehow managed to land upright, though his eyes were wide with surprise.

_I taste his power in your soul…_

He wondered idly if the being within the Boosted Gear could hear. He had no doubt it probably could; it just lacked a means of retorting back.

Issei came at him again. He planted a kick squarely on the boy's chest and sent him flying back once more. Such was the power of a Persona. Once summoned in any form, its strength became his strength. And this one's was most prodigious.

This was no longer a fight. It hadn't ever been a fight since _it_ had demanded to surface.

_I know what you are…_

He noticed that Issei was hanging back this time, no doubt having learned his lesson from the previous two encounters. To his surprise, the boy knelt down and extended his arm. The opened palm of Boosted Gear greeted him and he raised an eyebrow as the gauntlet began to glow.

This should prove interesting.

A beam of strobing red light seared into existence, spitting from Issei's hand like a hurled spear.

_What you hold…_

The armored glove that was his False Gear moved to intercept. The beam connected with black metal, and he could feel the fiery strength that had been behind the blow as it was absorbed. There was strength, but there was no power, no substance. He clenched the gauntlet into a fist, watching as bronze talons clacked against his palm. When he opened them, a throbbing sphere of red energy floated in his palm, the very beam that had been shot at him, reshaped to his will.

He showed it to his opponent who stared back in astonishment.

_What you carry…_

He crushed the sphere in his hand, and the world around him exploded in white heat. Flames buffeted his body, a raging conflagration that should have scorched the skin off his flesh and then the flesh from bone. He walked through it like it was nothing.

He flung his arm out, and from his palm a great blast of frost spewed out, spreading sleet-like ice onto his surroundings, freezing the very air with its unnatural chill. Issei barely managed to leap back in time, and he could see the thin layer of frost that had settled over portions of the boy's clothes where the blast had caught him.

_A weapon made of steel…_

He stomped on the ground, and currents of ice spikes ripped their way up, shooting from the frozen earth in jagged, rugged formations. He gestured, and they rolled in a great wave towards his distant foe, an unstoppable tide of serrated protrusions. Boosted Gear smashed into the oncoming formations and shattered them into chunks of ice. But he could see the weariness that was starting to set in on his opponent's face, and that particular blow had taxed him even more.

_But merged with a soul…_

Orbs of shimmering frost appeared by his side, each twice the width of a man's torso. He sent them churning towards his opponent, spinning on their axis in blurs of motion. Shards of ice were shed from their pulsating bodies as they spun, filling the air with barbed splinters, shredding the surroundings with barrages of shrapnel. One orb deviated from its path, and exploded into a copse of trees, detonating with all the force of an artillery round.

_A soul that once burned brightly…_

Issei managed to avoid the worst of the barrage, but the tears in his clothing and the gashes on his skin told him the devil had not escaped unscathed. With a loud cry, the boy launched himself against him, with predictable results.

_But now chained and shackled…_

Red gauntlet met black vambrace, and as his bronze claws grappled with ones of crimson, he could feel the anger that raged underneath, a mirror to the vehemence in his mind. But even then, that anger was muted, subdued, and as a result, easily overpowered.

_Ah… Ddraig…_

Boosted Gear recoiled, as if surprised, and he seized that opportunity. His free hand reached out, grabbed Issei by the collar, spun on his heel, and hurled the boy back. The wall of ice was already there waiting, a thick slab of rime, conjured by the False Gear. Issei smashed into it, denting the frozen surface, and slid down lifelessly, head lowered onto his chest.

He grimaced. The wall was originally meant to have great spikes protruding from it when it was formed, to impale and skewer. At the last second he had rescinded that order.

It had never been a fight. He was preventing it from being a slaughter.

Issei grunted and blinked groggily. That was all the reprieve he would receive. A gesture from the False Gear sent an immense wave of force crashing into the conjured wall, splitting it in two and sending the boy careening through the crack.

_The Great Welsh…_

The devil landed badly, and from how he hesitantly put more weight on one leg than the other as he rose, it was safe to say that at least something was sprained.

He began walking towards him, striding through the sundered remains of the wall, the hand unburdened with armor reaching out and brushing against the frozen surface. Power pooled, and as he grazed his palm along the ice, the hilt of a sword materialized, formed from the foundations of the wall itself. His fingers latched onto it, pulled, and the weapon came free as though drawn from a freshly oiled sheathe. He glanced at it as he walked, taking notice of the broad blade and the way mists of frost wafted and hovered over its surface.

It was not Clarent. It was not any sword he would have carried into battle. But it was adequate enough for the task at hand.

He dragged the frost blade behind him, the tip hissing as it carved icy furrows into the dirt.

_The Crimson Emperor... _

In his other hand, the False Gear was clutched into a fist. Trails of frozen vapor emitted from between the bronze claws like steam.

_My old enemy…_

* * *

She had assumed he would make an excellent Bishop when he first showed them the ability to conjure elemental fire and ice and later on the aptitude to heal. It would fit him perfectly, she imagined, raining damaging ranged attacks while healing his allies. And then he had forged a demon sword despite not having the Sacred Gear to do so, fought Kiba, a powerful piece in his own right, to a standstill, and that assumption had promptly gone out the window. A Knight then, just like Kiba. Maybe a Rook if his speed was not up to par. And then he had created _that_, the blackened, bronze-clawed mimicry of Issei's own Boosted Gear and that was when Rias Gremory realized she could come up with all the assumptions she wanted about Minato Arisato and they would probably all end up wrong.

Her eyes were riveted on the armored gauntlet as it blurred and sped in the fury of combat. The blood-red jewel gleamed malevolently whenever it smote into the green of its counterpart, as if it was delighting in the brutal exchange. The bronze talons raked and tore at their crimson equivalent, overpowering Boosted Gear with sheer ferocity, driving Issei back with each ripping slash.

Her Pawn had the advantage in speed, but it was being sorely negated. At first Rias had thought it was due to Issei's inexperience that was the cause, but after careful observation, realized that it was not the case at all. Her Pawn's opponent was just that good. Whenever Issei sought to flank, the boy spun on his heel to defend, presenting no window of opportunity for the devil to exploit. Whenever her Pawn lunged to attack, thinking he had at last found a weak point, the black gauntlet barred his path, challenging Boosted Gear in a contest of strength that it always won. And even in the rare occasion Issei managed to dodge under the mimicry Gear, the sword the boy had pulled from the wall was waiting, the bluish blade trailing streams of frost as it carved through the air, forcing her Pawn back with every hissing stroke.

She had seen him do the same in his duel with Kiba, matching her Knight's speed with unyielding defense. Quickness it seemed, was not how the boy fought. He was quick on his feet, certainly, but the bursts of speed that devils used were not in his repertoire. Calm and patient, if Rias had to describe his combat style, mixed in with blistering counterattacks that even Kiba sometimes had trouble blocking. And if Kiba, the ace in her sleeve, the hardest-hitting piece in her peerage, had ultimately been defeated, what chance did her Pawn have?

Issei was solely outclassed. She had worried about that from the start. It had been why she had tried to stop him. And this was before she had seen him conjure frost orbs that exploded like miniature bombs and blast ice from his hands like a dragon breathing fire. And now she was torn between worrying about her Pawn being hurt by the opponent that outclassed him so and the fact that she may never get another chance to recruit said opponent into her peerage again.

"So he can summon powerful manifestations called Personas," Kiba said casually, breaking her concentration on the fight at hand, "make demon swords from regular swords, and can now apparently copy Sacred Gears as well." the Knight turned to look at her, "So why exactly isn't he in our peerage again?"

"It is not as though I haven't tried," Rias bit out, "He just refused me minutes ago."

"Perhaps we need more incentive?" Kiba suggested.

"Such as?" she winced as her Pawn reeled from a particularly heavy blow, "There doesn't seem to be anything we can offer him. And trying to lure him in has not been very effective. He is not exactly perverted like Issei."

"Indeed," Akeno noted from her side, "He seems especially resilient," her friend smiled mischievously, "Maybe he is not interested in girls at all? If that is the case we should let Yuuto do the persuading."

"Me?" the handsome boy seemed taken aback, "Why me?"

"You are popular with all the girls. Even Tsubaki has a crush on you. If you turn on your charm, it might work."

Kiba looked perturbed.

"But I like girls."

"I'm sure you will take one for the team," Akeno said with a remarkably straight face.

Turning, the girl continued to watch the fight unfold, although it was clear by now who would emerge as the victor.

"I like the way he fights," she mentioned, her eyes lighting up with delight as the boy doled out a vicious punch that Issei almost failed to block, "There is a brutal method to it all. When I first met him, I thought him the quiet and studious type. Who knew he could be capable of such violence?"

Rias decided not to mention that her friend's cheeks had become flushed.

"Though I am surprised he has such experience in wielding a Sacred Gear when he professed he had no knowledge of them."

"Because it is not a Sacred Gear," remarked Koneko simply.

Rias looked at her Rook in interest. The Nekomata followed the battle just as Akeno did, but her eyes were solely reserved for the black claw that overwhelmed the red one in each ruthless exchange.

"What do you mean?"

"It mirrors Boosted Gear, but it has yet to Boost," the girl blinked, "It could be a Persona."

"That should be impossible shouldn't it?" Yuuto murmured, "Demon swords, I can deal with. It doesn't surprise me he can do that. But how exactly does one copy a Sacred Gear with…" the boy grappled with the words for a moment, "…a manifestation of thought?"

"He said the power of Personas were limitless," Koneko stated.

"And you're just going to take that at face value? I thought he was not being serious with us."

"When has he not been serious with us?" Rias pointed out, "He has always been serious with us. The demonstration he provided in the student council room is proof of that."

Kiba nodded reluctantly.

"I see your point."

They turned and resumed watching the battle. Issei was now barely managing to keep up, and had relinquished all initiative to his opponent. Her Pawn was now solely on the defensive, struggling as the boy with blue hair pressed the advantage, hurling heavy punches with the hand armored in black and swinging the frost blade in elaborate patterns with the other. It was inevitable now. She resigned herself to not having the chance to recruit him ever again. Honestly, she was surprised Issei had managed to last this long. There had been a good number of blunders her Pawn had committed throughout the fight that Minato either did not notice or chose not to notice.

"Do you think he might be angry?" Akeno put into words what she was thinking, "With us, I mean. He is dragging the match on for a long time, and there were several openings earlier where he could have ended it immediately."

She had noticed that as well, though she had been reluctant to pin that as the only reason.

"That might have been my fault," Kiba suddenly looked sheepish, "I may have insinuated that he could only become a Bishop under your peerage."

Rias sighed. Akeno shook her head in amusement.

"Asia is already here," she nodded to the girl in question, who was watching the duel anxiously, her hands clasped together tightly to her chest, "Did you forget about Gasper?"

"Well, I didn't actually tell him we already had a second Bishop. I wanted to get a rise out of him, see if it would make him react. Make him fight better," he held up both his hands, as if to ward off the chastisement he knew he would receive, "In my defense, it worked with Issei."

She turned to glare at the sword-user.

"He is not Issei."

"Yes," Kiba said studiously, "I figured that out when he summoned a demon sword from his ass and copied a Longinus class Sacred Gear like a cheap magic trick."

"You seemed bothered by that," Akeno smiled.

"It just seems unnatural," Yuuto gestured to the fight, "Still, if he is dragging this on purposefully, shouldn't we stop him? We need our Pawn's strength for the Rating Game."

Rias was about to reply when a soft voice interrupted her.

"Um, I do not think Angel-san is the type of person to do that," Asia said gently.

She frowned.

The induction of Asia Argento into her peerage was still somewhat of a mystery to her. When they carried the former priestess onto academy grounds, her vitality had been at its lowest point, ebbing dangerously between life and death. She had stayed in that condition for hours on end, with no hint of improving, and besides the short periods of time she awoke weakened and barely conscious, had lingered in a fretful sleep. Issei had spent as much time as he could with her, taking the time between classes to check up on the girl he felt was his responsibility. He had gone in to cheer her up, but each time he came out he would have a worried look on his face and professed to her that Asia's condition had not improving. She had been helpless then and could do nothing but console her Pawn.

And then something had happened, something that occurred when neither her nor Issei had been there to witness it. For the next time she entered the hospital room, her peerage in tow, Asia had awoken almost immediately, and despite the weakened state she was in, the former priestess had smiled readily at them from her bed. And then with remarkable calmness she had requested to be resurrected as a devil.

Others of her rank would not have entertained the thought. The Rating Game was too important, too essential for a peerage to include a member that could not assist in winning. But she had been prepared for that and agreed to Asia's request even if it meant wasting one of her pieces. If it meant making Issei happy and giving life to a girl that deserved it, then she would have no regrets. There still had been a nagging worry though, that her willingness to make one amongst her peerage happy would weaken the group as a whole.

As it turned out, she needn't have worried at all.

Asia's condition had rapidly deteriorated after that, and she never woke once more as a human. Koneko estimated that she had a day before death would finally take her. Issei had volunteered to watch over the girl, and had stayed true to his word, sitting loyally by her side in solemn silence as life slowly receded from her body. There were times when even he had to rest though, and it was on one such occasion that she entered the room and found her Pawn sleeping soundly, slumped over his chair, using his arms as a cushion by Asia's comatose form. She would have smiled at the sight if her eyes had not immediately shot to the gleaming fragment that rested on the pillow by Asia's head, surface shining softly in the dim light.

Issei would later claim that no one had entered the room besides himself, and that even if someone did, he would at least hear it, even in his sleep, especially if that someone had come to return such a valuable artifact as a Sacred Gear. And yet when she entered, she had found the door slightly ajar, and knew that it would have been a simple matter to tiptoe past the room's sleeping guardian, place the fragment and then retreat.

Koneko had put a damper on her immense relief when she pointed out that even if they had the real Sacred Gear, the fake one, the mimicry still in Asia's body might interfere with the resurrection ritual. That turned out to be another worry she needn't have bothered with.

When Asia died, surrounded by members of her peerage, her face calm and peaceful, the false Gear had disappeared as well, dissolving into nothingness as the former priestess breathed her last breaths. It was almost as if it had been placed there for the sole purpose of prolonging the girl's life, though for what reason she knew not. It had been standard procedure after that, and when the ritual ended, Asia would open her eyes once more, not as a human, but as a devil.

She had a good guess who had helped Asia, and in turn, had helped her gain a powerful Bishop. That guess was further reinforced when the girl went up to him the following day and called him an angel in front of an entire class of students.

She had been amused by the look on his face, and had teased him about it, but inwardly she had wanted to thank him. She would not get the chance to however, as Minato had retreated quickly shortly after Akeno had joined in. And now, she wondered if she would ever get a chance to. The proposal of marriage to Riser Phenex could not have come at a worse time, and if they lost the coming Rating Game, she doubted she would ever get the freedom to even associate with him, much less thank him.

Asia noticed that they were all looking at her and blushed lightly.

"I don't think Angel-san is the type of person who would torment others," she said confidently, "I think he is trying to teach Hyoudou-san something."

"It is a strange way of teaching then," Kiba remarked lightly.

She agreed and was about to say something similar when she saw from the corner of her eye that her Pawn had overextended. Growing increasingly frustrated, Issei had launched a wild fist in his opponent's direction, and in doing so, forgot about his defenses entirely. The mistake was physically painful to see. The fist was easily caught. She could hear the distinctive clang as Minato trapped Boosted Gear in the claws of his own gauntlet. For a split instant Issei was hideously vulnerable, and the sword swept into view, keen on taking advantage of this vulnerability. At the last second however, the boy twirled his grip on the weapon, so that when it connected it was not the edge that bit into flesh but the flat of the blade smacking into her Pawn's side.

Issei yelped and leapt clear, and the duel continued anew.

She blinked. Realization dawned then, that the boy had been doing this from the very start. Every blow he threw with his False Gear was dodged or blocked because he allowed it to be, and those blows that did connect had always been to the less important parts of the body. Every stroke from his sword had been turned aside at the last moment, so that it was always the flat of the blade that connected, never the lethal edge.

He had not chosen to exploit the mistakes Issei had made so that her Pawn would still have a chance to learn from them.

From the looks the rest of her peerage was now sporting, it was clear that they had realized the same thing.

"If Issei loses, and most likely he will," Kiba said, and there was an undercurrent of emotion she had never heard before, "I will be most angry with him."

* * *

His opponent knelt before him, strength all but spent, yet he felt no pride in his triumph. Others might have been delighted in the way the boy seemed utterly beaten or felt smugness at such a complete victory. He did not. It was not his way.

"Give up."

Issei smiled up at him, battered face a mess of bruises and cuts. He had tried not to aim for the head too much, but as the boy tired, the holes in his defense had become all the more pronounced.

"I… can't."

He sighed.

"I have beaten you."

"I… can't… give up," the devil wheezed, "If I lose… Buchou won't be able… to recruit you anymore."

And this was a bad thing why?

"If you do not give up, I will have to hurt you," he tried.

"Can't give up…" the boy seemed so tired that he bordered on delusion, "Buchou… saved me… Have to… save her… as well…"

He crushed the Boosted Gear in his claws, straining against the crimson gauntlet, forcing immense pressure into the hand sheathed within.

Issei let out a pained rasp.

"You do not have the strength to continue fighting."

"Have… to... Can't… give up…"

He squeezed harder and Issei cried out. He could hear bones cracking beneath the plated glove. If the boy did not relent soon, something would break.

"A smart person knows when to give up."

"I… must not… be a smart person… then…"

His lips twitched. He could appreciate the boy's defiance. It had been much the same way when he and Nyx fought. Defiance against the inevitable had always been a human trait. History was rife with examples of famous last stands and gritty sieges, where the defenders had held out against all odds.

For a devil, Issei possessed a remarkably human side to him. He could always respect that.

Respect, but not give in. Appreciate, but not concede.

He let Boosted Gear slip through his claws. The gauntlet fell heavily to the floor, Issei's arm with it, limp and deadened. The black metal that was his own glove wrapped around the boy's face, bronze talons setting themselves against the sides of his head. If surrender was not within the devil's vocabulary, then unconsciousness would do the trick all the same. Though much of his features were obscured by the False Gear, Issei's eyes were could still be seen between the gaps left by his fingers, and defiance still shone in them.

He wondered idly if Nyx had beheld the same thing, a single human, standing by himself on that blasted landscape, a lone flicker of defiance against the vastness of space that was her power.

He grimaced. Now he felt like the villain.

The sudden surge of power caused him to look down, the surge of power that was not his own. Boosted Gear greeted him, its claws clutched tight into a fist, the emerald jewel gleaming with triumphant intensity. The realization struck him then that in releasing the armored glove, he had left himself horribly exposed. Issei must have pooled power into his Gear and hid it for this very moment.

That was almost… cunning… for him.

The crimson gauntlet shone brilliantly as power was charged in preparation for the blow he knew he would not be fast enough to prevent.

He could almost feel the presence in his mind leering at the sight.

_There you are, Ddraig. _

He smiled into his opponent's face, which had lost all semblance of weariness, which no longer wore the façade of being defeated, which was now sporting a grin mirroring his own.

"Clever," he said.

And then Boosted Gear smashed into his stomach and his world exploded once more into white heat.

* * *

He had expended the last of his power for that one blow, saving it for an explosion that would drain Boosted Gear of all of its strength but would hopefully be enough to defeat the enemy that had overwhelmed him at every opportunity. It had been a last ditch effort, a last, desperate strike against a foe that had proved to be far superior in every aspect. He had felt the punch connect, the blow landing solidly against flesh, and the vacuum that came after as his opponent was sent flying back to land hopefully in an unconscious heap.

And for brief seconds, as all that whirled about him was smoke and dust, he hoped against hope that he had done just that.

"Did I… win?" Issei Hyoudou gasped out.

"No," the voice that answered him was all too familiar and that made the reply all the more damning.

Minato Arisato strode through the smoke, his uniform charred and blackened, the place where Boosted Gear had struck emitting hissing columns of steam. The boy noticed, frowned slightly, and waved the mists of superheated vapor away, as though they were a minor annoyance. The impassive face turned to look at him, and there was something akin to a smile tugging at his lips.

"But you were close."

Somehow, Issei knew that was a lie.

The boy jerked his head sideways in a gesturing motion, and that was when Issei noticed that the smoke had disappeared and had been entirely replaced by grasping tendrils of shadows.

"He wants to speak with you."

The devil had a moment to ponder the meaning behind those words before the shadows leapt forth, enwrapping his surroundings in a shroud of darkness. From the swirling mass, great reptilian wings grew out, massive edifices of scale and hide.

**I am Thou, and Thou art I.**

The voice that came sounded like a peal of thunder, ragged with inhuman malice, buffeting him with its rolling depth.

**I am the Destroyer. The Pillager. The Scaled Calamity that Descends from the Frozen North.**

The shadows solidified to become a body, black like obsidian and thick with bundled muscle.

**From the Root of the Earth I was Remade. From the Ire of thy Mind I have Come.**

Trunk-like legs speared out, slamming into the ground, producing miniature earthquakes wherever they landed. Gleaming talons clawed at the floor, carving deep furrows into the dirt as easily as one would cut a cake with a knife.

**I am the Ice that was Once Fire. I am the Hatred that was Once Ambition.**

The serpentine neck reared up, and along with it the head, triangular-shaped, adorned with curved spines and festooned with ivory fangs. Streaks of white marred its black snout, pale scales on a sea of dark skin. Large, red eyes glared from the hooded skull, the slit-like pupils burning with primal intelligence.

**I am Nidhogg, Devourer of Worlds.**

The dragon rose to its full height, massive wings spread open to their fullest extent, and let out a rumbling snarl from its opened jaws.

**And I have Come Forth to Greet an Old Enemy.**

* * *

_Author's Note: As some of you might have noticed, this chapter was shorter than that last couple. This is due to the fact that my Finals are around the corner and putting out this chapter will allow me to focus on studying instead of worrying about updating. I was also originally going to limit the word count for each chapter to around 5,000 words. As you've no doubt seen, I surpassed that limit by a significant amount for chapters 4 and 5. Hopefully those are going to be outliers and the rest of the chapters will be within that 5,000 word limit. Longer chapters are more satisfying to read but they take an exponential amount of time for me to churn out, and I find the quality tends to suffer when I do churn them out._

_Yes there will be clarifications about him being Nephilim. Yes there will be sections detailing his "relationship" with Raynare (probably next chapter). Yes there will be explanations for everything. I've received a lot of reviews and also a decent amount of private messages asking me about all of the above and more. And while I'm glad that there's so much interest being generated by this story, realize that it also takes time for me to come up with ideas and write them out. And just because you find one of your questions being unanswered in one chapter doesn't mean it won't be there the next chapter. That's the thing with fan fiction. It comes one chapter at a time. You will just have to read on to find out._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

To their credit, they did not run when Nidhogg's gargantuan form materialized into existence. Thick and heavyset, the dragon's body was draped with jagged spikes and horned obtrusions, a mass of serrated spines that started from its shoulders and ended with the tip of its whip-like tail. Claws twice the length of a man's arm clutched at the earth, carving deep, winding fissures in the dirt with the barest of movements. A long, serpentine neck carried the menacing skull, the scaled snout filled to the brim with wicked, curved teeth. Crimson pupils glared at them, and as the dragon extended to its fullest height, those eyes fastened on to Rias and her group in malicious delight.

And then it spoke, and the voice that entered his mind, all of their minds, was akin to the rumbling tremble of a small earthquake.

**So. This is What You Have Chosen for Your Replacement Brood. **

Those words were meant for him.

He frowned.

It was an unfair assumption, in his opinion. He hadn't chosen at all. He was not sure what they were to him, but they certainly weren't replacements. Nothing could replace the bonds he had made with SEES.

Nidhogg knew what his thoughts were before they even finished forming. The Persona might have manifested, but the source of its power was still rooted within his psyche. Its eyes flickered to him, and there was a dark, taunting amusement hidden behind them.

**You Could Have Chosen Better. Then Again, it is an Improvement Over the Last Bunch.**

He wanted to argue that. Mentally, at least. The dragon didn't give him a chance to. Its heavy body moved with deceptive grace, and though the ground trembled with every step, the ease at which it took those steps was utterly inhuman. It stopped only when it reached its destination, the group of clustered figures dwarfed by its immense size. A snarl of contempt ripped from its jaws as it gazed down.

**Where is the Substitute for the Cap Wearing One? His Mind May have been Empty but His Antics were Amusing.**

That… was an interesting depiction of Junpei.

**At Least There is no Dog. That Mutt and its Incessant Barking Made Me Want to Kill Something.**

Ah, Koromaru. He hadn't realized how much he missed that pup. The dragon let out a deep snarl.

**I do Believe I Wanted to Eat Him.**

Well, that did explain why the canine would tuck his tail between his legs and whimper whenever Nidhogg was summoned. Sometimes animals knew more about Personas than humans ever could.

The dragon's head lowered, its long neck brunching as coiled muscles did their work. Its snout stopped bare centimeters from the chests of Rias and her peerage.

**Devils. Every Single One of You. Perfidious and Treacherous by Nature. Yet I Sense No Evil Amongst You. How Curious.**

It sniffed at Rias. The sudden intake of air caused the devil's hair to flap wildly about her face.

**This One Smells of Fear and Desperation, and is Perhaps a Bit Deluded.**

The dragon turned its attention to the black-haired girl by Rias's side. Both were commendably stoic as jaws the length as they were tall swayed from side to side in front of them.

**This One Reeks of Depravity and Fantasy, and is all the More Perverted. **

It moved on to the tall figure of Kiba, who was fighting hard to keep his face impassive.

**And What of this One? Is that the Rancid Tang of Regret I Taste in the Air? How Exquisite. The One Behind You is Not Bad Smelling Either. For a Beast.**

Koneko flinched from her spot hidden behind Kiba. Nidhogg did not deign her worthy of a second glance and moved on to the last member of their party.

**And You. There is Something Different About You.**

Remarkably, Asia did not seem perturbed at all as the dragon regarded her with a clinical eye.

**The Stench of a Human. It Lingers, Fleeting and Ephemeral, but it is There. Yet You are Unmistakably a Devil. How did You Come to be this Way, May I Ask?**

"I was once a human," the girl looked down, "I was only recently resurrected as a devil."

**A Devil Resurrection? Now that is Interesting. Where I Come From, Devils do not Resurrect. They Kill and Leave You for Dead. **

A serpent-like tongue snaked out, testing the air. Its owner dipped its skull until one bulbous eye was level with the former priestess's.

**You are a Small One, Yet I Sense that You are Unafraid. Tell Me, have You Seen One of My Kind Before?**

Asia shook her head demurely.

**Then Where does Your Courage Spring From, Devil Who Was Once Human?**

"You are Angel-san's dragon," the girl said simply, "and Angel-san won't let you hurt us."

There was confidence in those words that made even him blink.

Nidhogg reared back and laughed. The sound was like distant thunder, discordant and jagged, rich with scornful derision.

**Angel, She Says. Lovely Title. **

It stared at the girl from its immense height and leered.

**If You Knew What Demons Clings to His Mind Then You Would Not be so Quick to Call Him that Name. **

Rias shot him an alarmed look. He ignored it. The dragon was already moving, the ground shuddering with each heavy step. It stopped before Issei's kneeling form. A wayward swipe from its tail annihilated a swathe of trees, swatting them aside like they were nothing, uprooting them as though they were mere weeds. All of them winced, but had not the courage to mention it.

The serpentine neck lowered, and with it, the head, descending majestically until its white-streaked snout was almost touching the boy's chest.

**And You are Perhaps the Most Curious of All. I Smell the Scent of the Crimson Emperor on Your Body, yet I do not Recognize His Power. It has Become Far too Diluted.**

Issei looked up to the reptilian visage in surprise. He regretted that decision when the dragon huffed and a cloud of ice vapor blasted into his face.

**He has been Shackled. There are Chains Wrapped Around His Soul, and Perhaps a Few Around His Mind as Well. Am I Wrong?**

The boy lifted the armored gauntlet still attached to his hand.

"My Sacred Gear-"

**There is Nothing Sacred About that Weapon. **

Issei winced, but did not waver. Nidhogg reared back, its reptilian pupils affixed to Boosted Gear as though it was something mildly disgusting.

**It is a Prison. A Prison Painted in Crimson and Forged in Steel, but a Prison Nonetheless. A Prison Most Foul and Blasphemous, yet a Prison it Remains.**

Great muscles bundled and rippled across the immense body, flexing under its scaled hide as it moved. The dragon began prowling, circling around the boy like an immense predator would do to a prey.

**And When did You Receive this Prison and the Power Contained Within? Did You Earn it with Some Noteworthy Deed? I Think Not. You were Given it. **_**Given it!**_** Power Should Never be Given! It Should be Earned!**

Wrath had lit up in Nidhogg's eyes, and fury had taken hold of its gargantuan form, its massive, spiked body quivering with rage.

**This is What Happens When You Let Devils and Angels Meddle in This World! They Give Out Power Freely! Recklessly! **_**As if it was Theirs to Give!**_

Those last few words were hissed out, literally spat out from the its mouth. The great beast turned its attention to Issei once more, the spiked head dipping as it lunged for its target. The jaws were opened this time.

**And How has this Power Translated? A Fledgling Cannot Survive a Hurricane yet You Throw Yourself Against its Whipping Winds. A Ship Does Not Sail into the Teeth of the Storm yet You Would Test its Hull Against the Tempest Squall. **

The dragon snapped shut its maw at the last second, scant inches from the boy's face, forcing him to fall flat on his rear. And then it was rising, the long, thick neck extending upwards, the skull along with it, until it finally stopped and towered above them all.

**Did You Really Think You Could Defeat Me? Did You Really Think You Could Best Nidhogg, the Ice Drake!?**

The anger was still there, but it was controlled, leashed tightly behind its snarling visage, shimmering beneath its eyes. Somehow that made the dragon seem even more dangerous.

**My Teeth are **_**Swords**_**! My Claws are **_**Spears**_**!**

For emphasis, it raised a taloned limb and pounded it into the ground. When it raised it again, all could see the crater that had been left behind, and the spider web of fissures that spread from the edges.

**My Breath is the Freezing Chill of the Arctic North!**

It turned its head aside, and from the dragon's unhinged jaws a blast of ice seared out, spreading over the forest and turning a kilometer-wide expanse of foliage into frozen statues and lifeless rime.

**My Wings are a Hurricane! **

Great reptilian pinions stretched out, unfurling to their fullest extent. Immediately they were buffeted by immense gales of chilling wind, a whirlwind of hissing, biting air that gnawed at their skin and left their hairs standing end-on-end. The force knocked Issei onto his back, and the rest of Rias's peerage fared no better. Most of them were been sent to their knees, their bodies unwilling to stand against such a tumultuous storm. He did not share their condition. He had expected Nidhogg to do something similar and had entrenched his feet firmly into the ground when the dragon had extended its wings.

And then the storm stopped, as abruptly as it started, and when they recovered it was to see the dragon's wings sheathing themselves across its back and to see it prowling towards Issei once more. Its lips were curled back, revealing sharp, serrated teeth and the look in its eyes promised a most fitting violence.

**My Ire is the Death of Men.**

As though responding to that veiled threat, Boosted Gear began to glow dimly, the green jewel on its back flashing weakly as the immense bulk that was the dragon loomed closer.

Nidhogg noticed and a contemptuous growl rumbled from its throat.

**So. The Great Welsh Finally Speaks. What is He Saying to You, Whelp? What Words of Wisdom does He Offer from His Gilded Cage?**

He observed that Issei seemed stunned. The boy looked down to where his gauntlet rested, as though if he couldn't believe the words he was hearing.

"He is saying…" the devil began hesitantly, then stopped, his eyes growing wide, "…He is saying you are an Evil Dragon."

**Evil? Now that is an Interesting Choice of Words. If I am Evil, then What are You, Devil? You Who Hold the Enslaved Soul of a Dragon and Wield His Power as Your Own?**

Issei shook his head at the implication, his eyes wide.

**Did You Think Ddraig Chose to be Imprisoned? Did You Think the Great Welsh Willingly Let Himself be Chained to that Accursed Weapon?**

Nidhogg leered at him, crimson pupils alight with malevolent glee.

**They Didn't Tell You, Did They? **

The target of its ire could only stare back.

**Of Course They Didn't. That is What Angels and Devils Do. They Plot and Scheme. They Connive and Manipulate. And it is Mortals like You Who are Left to Pick Up the Pieces When They are Done.**

Issei concentrated on his Boosted Gear again, and he could see the gauntlet's gem flashing muted shades of green in response.

"He is saying…" the boy's features gradually set as he listened to the power within the Gear, and when he looked up it was with the same defiance he had possessed when he knelt with the black claw in his face, "Ddraig is saying he is at peace in here, and that I shouldn't listen to anything you have to say."

**That is What I Would Say Too if I spent Centuries of My Existence Locked Behind a Prison. **

Issei didn't reply to that. The dragon let out a chuckle that was more akin to a growl than a laugh.

**And What of the Great Welsh Himself? He Presumes to Lecture Me on Evil When He has Killed the Most of All? Ask Him How Earned the Title of the Crimson Emperor. Ask Him Whelp, and See if He Tells You of the Days of Old when Men Rightfully Feared the Name of Ddraig and the Fire He Brought.**

The boy looked like was about to protest, but then Boosted Gear flashed again, though there was something subdued about it, as if it was admitting to a deed it wished was long forgotten.

Its wearer's face gradually set into a grim expression.

"He says he regrets what he did back then," Issei said softly.

**I am Sure the People He Killed and the Villages He Set Ablaze are Grateful for His Regret. **

The boy flinched at the dragon's sardonic drawl. He glared down at the crimson glove, and there was something akin to recrimination in his eyes.

**And Now You are Beginning to Understand. There is No Such Thing as Good or Evil. There is Only Power. Power that You have Inherited. Power that You are Wasting. You Could Be Spending Time Unlocking Your Weapon's Full Potential, But Instead You Choose to Hurl Yourself into Fights You Cannot Win.**

The devil blinked up towards the monster, not comprehending.

**Do Not Act so Surprised. I Know of the One Who Made that Weapon and the Way He has Set it to Work. His Power Dwarfs Mine But for All His Might His Methods are still Loathsomely Predictable. Such is the Nature of Heaven. Rigid and Unbending. **

Nidhogg snorted. Twin columns of frost emitted from its nostrils like steam.

**You are Rash, Whelp. You are Young and Your Fire Burns Hot. The Great Welsh had the Same Fire, but He Tempered that with Cunning and Unbreakable Will. You Must Do the Same. **

The dragon opened its jaws and snapped them towards its quarry once more. The object of its taunting did not fall back this time. He did not flinch or wince. He stood his ground and in response, something very close to approval flickered in Nidhogg's eyes.

**Harness Your Rage into Purpose. Bend Your Hatred into Resolve. Listen Well to the Words He Whispers into Your Ear, And Perhaps One Day You will be Worthy of the Title of the Dragon You Hold in Your Arm. **

Issei looked down at the crimson gauntlet that was still sheathed around his limb. The green jewel gleamed dimly back. Determination crept onto the devil's face. He smiled thinly. Chidori's sacrifice had hardened Junpei to become the team member SEES needed him to be. He was witnessing the same happening to Issei, though it was a different way of hardening.

"Thank you," the devil said finally, "…I think," he looked up hesitantly, "But why are you helping me? How do you know Ddraig?"

Nidhogg lifted its head. The dragon was reminiscing. He knew because the flurry of images that passed through the beast's conscience assailed his mind with equal vigor. Just as a Persona knew what the thoughts of its master were, so true was the opposite as well.

**I was Once a Fire Drake from the North. A Mighty Dragon of Fire and Flame with Scales of Crimson to Match. Just like Ddraig. Yet for all My Might, the Great Welsh was still the Stronger Dragon, the Fiercer Fire, and Many were the Battles I Lost to Him.**

A snarl of hatred erupted from its gargantuan maw as it recalled a particular humility it had been forced to endure.

**In My Quest for Vengeance I Flew to the Lands of My Ancestors, and There, Amidst Freezing Storms and Howling Winds I Dug into the Earth until I Discovered the Roots of the World Tree. I Devoured Them. I Ate from the Soul of Yggdrasil and Partook in the Power of the World. **

The blood-red pupils darted in their sockets, burning with bestial intelligence, fixating on each of them in turn.

**The Time I Spent Consuming the Roots of Yggdrasil was Not Kind to Me. The Perpetual Darkness that Surrounded Me in My Burrowed Lair Turned My Scales Black as Night. The Winter Cold that Raged Above Me Dimmed My Fire Until Only Ice was Left. The Elements Changed My Very Nature. No More was I Nidhogg, the Fire Drake, but Nidhogg, the Dragon of Frost and Rime.**

The dragon smirked at Issei's expression. Its serpentine tongue snaked out and caressed the row of fangs jutting from its upper jaw.

**I May have Lost My Identity, but the Strength I Gained More than Made Up for that. The World Tree Fed Me Immense Power and Finally I was Ready to Face Ddraig and Avenge all the Wrongs He had Done on to Me. **

Nidhogg's eyes dilated with sudden fury, and when it next spoke, its voice was low with barely restrained wrath.

**Now Imagine My Surprise when I Emerged, Expecting a Battle Worthy of Song and Legend, to Discover that Ddraig had Long Ago been Sealed Away. Imagine My Anger when I Found Out My Chance for Vengeance had been Denied to Me by Powers Above My Control. Imagine My Rage when I Realized I had Forsaken My Identity and It. Had. All. Been. For. Nothing.**

The fury became malevolence. The images that flashed into his head became sundered castles and crumbled citadels, their occupants trapped in tombs of frozen hoarfrost. The dragon leered at its audience.

**The Realms of Men Learned that Day that Ice Burns Just as Well as Fire.**

The spiked skull swayed towards Issei again, and the leathery snout sank until it hovered above the arm that held Boosted Gear.

**But that was All in the Past. Many were the Years I Spent Searching for the Great Welsh and at Last I have Found Him. Chained to a Devil, Weakened to a Most Pitiful State, But Nevertheless He is Here. Ddraig, My Old Enemy. My Quest for Vengeance has Finally Come Full Circle. **

Nidhogg's gaze bore into the crimson gauntlet, as though by merely staring at it could cause the presence within it to manifest.

**All Things Must Come to an End. Such is the Way of the World. One Day the Bars Holding Ddraig will Fall. That Might be Tomorrow. Or It Could Be a Hundred Years From Now. It Matters Not. I am a Patient Being. I have Waited Centuries to Test My Might Against the Crimson Emperor. What is a Few More Decades Compared to That?**

The dragon rose for the last time. Its claws dug into the earth, finding purchase so that the massive wings could extend fully again.

**One Day Ddraig will be Free and I will be There to Greet Him. I will Congratulate Him on His Freedom and then I will Sink My Teeth into His Neck. Once More We will do Battle like the Days of Yore.**

It smiled down at them.

**And It will be Most Glorious. **

Deep laughter followed, and then the dragon was gone, fading away, dissipating into nothingness the same time he felt its presence receding from his conscience. He shook his head to clear the backlash from his mind and began to make his way to the figure that had borne most of the beast's ire. He reached him and offered a hand. Issei grasped it and hauled himself up. He took note that the boy seemed a bit shell-shocked.

"Was that supposed to be a lesson?" the devil asked him after he managed to regain some of his wits.

No, but if he took it to be one, then that was fine as well.

"If it was," Issei smiled hesitantly at him, "I think it worked."

Good. He hated to think the show of power had gone to waste.

"There might be a small problem though," the boy sounded remorseful.

His lips drew into a tight line. A small problem?

"When I managed to land a punch on you," Issei lifted the armored gauntlet, "I might have expended a little bit more power than I meant to."

And?

The devil scratched at the back of his head.

"Ddraig told me my Sacred Gear might have temporarily lost the ability to Boost."

That certainly was bad. But temporarily did not mean permanently. If the boy waited for a few days, and the latest a week, everything would be back to normal again. He was sure of it.

He was about to make mention of that fact when Issei abruptly turned to face him. The devil looked extraordinarily sheepish, as though realizing he had done something drastic that he probably shouldn't have done.

"About that…" Issei swallowed, "The Rating Game Buchou has scheduled is the day after tomorrow."

_Oh._

* * *

In the end, it had been a marriage contract that made Rias request his presence in their training session. A marriage contract she had hoped to fight through a Rating Game. It explained why the girl had been so persistent of late in trying to recruit him, and why her attempts had been tinged with desperation. Her situation bore an uncanny resemblance to Mitsuru's, though with the heiress, she had always had a choice. She had initially made the wrong choice, believing that her happiness would always be tied with the well-being of the KirijoGroup, but the choice had still been there. Rias had no such good fortune. Mitsuru could have said no to her prospective fiancé at any time and eventually did, refusing to bow to the demands of the executives of her conglomerate. Rias did not. She did not even have the dignity of making the wrong choice.

He sympathized with her. And as he stood amongst her peerage, watching Issei lying on the ground being tended to by Asia, he wondered if perhaps his impression of her, of all of them, had been biased from the very start.

They were not bad people.

They were devils, not demons, and although he had made that distinction when they first revealed themselves to him, there had always been a niggling doubt in his mind about what their true intentions were. The doubt was still there, but it was diminishing with every passing day.

The disparity bothered him. The demons in his mind were powerful beings and utterly unmerciful. What they wanted they took. What they coveted they stole. If they were the ones pressing him for peerage, they would have found far more devious ways of doing it. But Rias had not done that. She was a high level devil, and no doubt possessed many of the powers he was familiar with. Yet her requests, while sometimes annoying, had always been honorable, always been transparent. And if he was honest with himself, some of those attempts had been genuinely amusing. She had always given him a choice in the matter, and always respected his choice, even if it meant it was to her disadvantage.

That was more than he could say about demons, who knew no such thing as respect for humans, or even angels, who understood respect, but nevertheless ignored it when it suited their goals.

Devils, not demons. More and more he understood the difference, and more and more he found himself respecting them for that difference. Nidhogg had made mention of that, sneering as it proclaimed them to be his brood. There were some truth in those words, but that was the thing about dragons. They had always been cryptic creatures, and spurned the wheel of Fate as powerful beings had every right to do.

Just like him.

"If you had told me this from the beginning," he said impassively, "things would not have ended up this way."

"I understand," Rias said primly from her position kneeling by Issei's side, "and I regret not doing so. At the time, however, I believed the marriage proposal was an issue that was only relevant to my peerage. I did not want to mingle the proposal with my efforts to recruit you. That would have been unbecoming of me. I wanted you to join my peerage on your own accord, not because it is something you feel you are forced to do."

She had no idea how much his opinion of her rose after that. But he didn't tell her that, of course.

"Still, if you had told me, I would have acted with more restraint."

"Restraint he says," Kiba seemed a bit put out, "He summons an Evil Dragon and then talks to us about restraint," the sword-user shook his head, and he noticed the boy's eyes were slightly wild, "I'm sorry, but am I the only one freaked out about this? As in 'how in the world am I still alive' freaked out?"

"I was a bit afraid," Asia admitted from Issei's other side, "when the dragon opened its mouth and headed towards Hyoudou-san."

"A bit afraid?" Kiba retorted, "It nearly ate him! _It nearly ate us!_"

"Oh, hush Yuuto," Akeno smiled, "It smelled you. That's hardly eating."

There was an uncertainty in her eyes though, and he could tell the older girl was still somewhat shaken.

"I do not believe Angel-san would have allowed his dragon to eat us," Asia added in. It was rather endearing, her confidence in him. It would be far more endearing if she stopped calling him by that name.

Kiba sighed when he realized no one shared the same degree of apprehension.

"We are going to have to keep this a secret, aren't we?"

"Yes," Rias nodded, "Dragons are immensely powerful beings, and their existence always brings attention, most often the wrong sort."

"Hmm," Akeno hummed, "I wonder if that's because our Buchou is genuinely afraid for Arisato-kun's safety or because other devils might take an interest in him."

She did not respond as he expected. Instead of blushing as usual after being teased, Rias looked almost forlorn.

"No. We will keep it a secret. As long as we can, at least."

The two friends shared a look.

"I'm sorry, Rias," Akeno murmured.

The girl nodded, and turned to him. She saw the question in his eyes and smiled haltingly.

"If I lose the Rating Game," she explained, "and I most likely will now that Issei's Gear has temporarily lost its ability to Boost, I will be forced to become the wife of Riser Phenix. That means that I will be subservient to him, and in extension, my peerage will be as well. Anything I know I will be expected to tell him, your ability to summon Personas included. And once he finds out what you can do, he will want to add your power to his own."

He frowned. That would be… problematic.

"He is that type of person then."

"The Grilled Chicken is an asshole!" a smile of amusement threatened to tug at his lips. He could always depend on Issei to be eloquent, "Making Buchou do things she doesn't want to do!"

"Yes," Rias agreed with her Pawn's words, "His peerage is already filled, so to gain you under his influence he will have me tempt you into my peerage so that by serving me you will serve him as well. And if that includes making me do _that_ with you, I doubt that he would care."

The amusement was gone instantly. That was not something he wanted or even desired. The mere thought of someone being forced to do something like that made him faintly nauseous. He was fully beginning to understand just how frantic she must have been.

In retrospect, even Issei's request to duel him did not seem so foolhardy now. Just desperate.

"If the two of you are to marry," he said slowly, "would that not be considered cheating?"

Rias made a scoffing sound.

"Riser's peerage consists entirely of female devils. I doubt he needs me if he wants to do that."

"So then it is all for the sake of power?"

"Yes. Devils have always desired power. And now with growing number of resurrected devils in our midst, the pure-blooded ones have become increasingly edgy. The devils that can trace their ancestry to the original Satans are now actively trying to prove their superiority, and this is what the marriage is about. That the union of two pure-blooded devils will bring forth a powerful offspring," the girl shook her head, as though she disagreed with the idea, and then smiled sadly at him once more, "If I begin to act rather inappropriately towards you, Arisato-san, please feel free to disregard me. It is most likely because Riser has made me do it."

He should be feeling grateful for the warning. Instead, he was feeling something else entirely.

"You beat Issei," the boy being mentioned winced from where he was laying, "and I will adhere to the conditions that was agreed upon. I will not try to recruit you from henceforth, but I cannot promise you what will happen after I lose the Rating Game."

"You have already accepted your defeat?" he glanced at her quizzically.

"Even with Issei's Boosted Gear, the odds were against us," Rias shrugged, "Now without its ability to Boost, defeat has become a certainty."

That had partially been his fault.

The devil gazed at him, as though trying to summon up courage for what she wanted to say next.

"I have agreed upon the conditions, but I was wondering if you would still be willing to answer a question I have."

He nodded. He could do that, at the very least.

"The dragon mentioned demons," Rias continued staring at him, "Not devils, but demons. The only beings that can classify as demons were the Great Satans and their direct underlings. You have the power to summon Nidhogg, an Evil Dragon," she hesitated, "Can you summon a Great Satan, as well?"

They were all looking at him now. And he regretted that there was genuine fear in some of those gazes. He grimaced inwardly. It was a delicate matter, what he could do and what he couldn't do, and he felt they were not quite ready to know those details. So he did something he was rather good at. He changed the subject.

"I will help you."

Rias seemed taken aback. It was clear she had not expected that for an answer. And then the realization of what he had said sank in and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks.

"Ara, ara, it appears that our Buchou's plight has moved Arisato-kun's cold heart," Akeno said for her friend when it became clear Rias was momentarily having trouble forming words. The rest of her peerage shared no such constraints.

"It will be good to have you on the team," Kiba smiled at him, and then that smile wavered, "As long as you don't make the dragon eat us."

Koneko gave him a curt nod, but the expression on her face told him she agreed profoundly with Kiba's sentiments.

"I am glad you will be one of us," Asia paused, as though considering something, "But then you wouldn't be an Angel, anymore, would you?" the former priestess looked genuinely heart-broken at that thought, "I am humbled by the sacrifice you are making, Arisato-san."

Finally she calls him by his name and it was because of something like this? It was almost laughable.

From the ground, Issei gave him a weak grin and pumped a half-hearted fist into the air.

"Operation Recruit Arisato-san is a success!"

They misunderstood.

"I will help you," he said again, "But only for this one Rating Game. I do not permanently wish to become a devil."

And just like that, the enthusiasm in the air vanished.

"That would be impossible, Arisato-san," Rias sounded a bit exasperated. He understood her frustration. He had offered to help and then seemingly rescinded that offer moments later, in her view at least, "In order to participate in a Rating Game, you must be a devil. If you think it is because you will have to die to become one, I assure you that is not the case. There are rituals that can change a human into a devil without dying."

Dying was not the problem. Dying had never been a problem. Thanatos would never allow him to fall. The aspect of Death guarded its possessions jealously, and to it, he was considered the most valuable prize of all.

"I understand," he nodded, "and I will become a devil for your fight against Riser. Then I will go back to being human."

Apparently what he said was so outrageous that none of them had anything to say in reply.

"That is… unfeasible," Kiba finally settled on.

"Once you choose to become a devil," Rias added in, her brows furrowed, "you cannot go back. The process is permanent. Devils cannot become humans again."

He smiled at her.

The Persona slipped into his mind like wax, oozing through the mental barriers he had let lax for this very purpose. Wretched, demented laughter rang in his head, the tone rich with dark malevolence. He winced as his connection to certain Arcanas dimmed until he could no longer call upon their manifestations. But that was to be expected. One did not give in to the Dark and expect the Light to forgive. And this one was undeniably dark. Its very presence was a physical pain in his mind, a searing agony that tore at his conscience. Lesser men would have given in to the pain. They would have surrendered to their suffering and laid their souls bare for this being and they would have been utterly corrupted.

He endured it. Just as he had done when he first fused it in the Velvet Room and beheld it in all its demonic splendor. Just as he had done when he summoned far more darker beings than it.

"Are you alright, Arisato-san?" Rias must have noticed the sudden change in him, for her eyes shone with concern.

He turned to regard her, and he was struck by just how beautiful she was. The paleness of her skin. The large, soft eyes. The flaming red hair, just like Mitsuru's, but without the severeness. The gentle swell of her breasts, swaying hypnotically with every movement. Her elegant neck, so delicate and light that he could reach out and snap it like a-

He clamped down on those thoughts immediately.

This was why he didn't like having demons in his head. They made him think about things he didn't want to think.

"It should work now," he said, not quite managing to hide the grimace that had started forming on his lips.

Rias did not notice. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him. That was the other thing about demons. They were not exactly subtle when it came to radiating off their power.

"How?"

The tone in her voice made it sound like a request, and requests could easily be ignored.

He inclined his head in her direction.

"I would like to become a Bishop."

Kiba suddenly looked very guilty.

"Ah… About that…"

* * *

"So you finally gave in," the voice that entered his ears as he opened the door to his apartment was the last voice he wanted to hear.

He frowned, and set aside his things, avoiding the feminine figure that sat cross-armed at his repaired table.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

He preferred not to, and went about his business. The day had been long, and he was eager for rest. There was supposed to be leftovers he had saved from last night in the fridge. They would have to do.

"Don't just ignore me!"

And yet that was exactly what he did. The leftovers were swiftly retrieved and placed into the waiting microwave. The entire time he waited for his food to heat up, he felt her stare burning holes into his shoulders.

In the end, facing her was inevitable. She was sitting at his only table, after all, and as much as he didn't wish to be interrogated, eating on the floor was a far less dignified option.

A quick search through the kitchen drawers produced the necessary eating utensils and all too soon he found himself walking towards the desk and the belligerent occupant it held.

He frowned when he saw the empty beer cans littered across the wooden surface, most of them recently opened. He had to move a few to make room for his dinner. As though if punctuating the scene, his tablemate let out a loud hiccup. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. A raised eyebrow caused her to glare back in defiance.

In retrospect, he should have seen this coming.

Humans, when they lost their purpose, tended to drown out their sorrows in alcohol. Raynare was not human. She would never be human, but when Metatron deprived her of her wings, she had been reduced to a state of flux. Not an angel for she had no wings, and yet not a human either for she was not born as one. The end result was someone who had the same tendencies for drink when depressed like a human yet possessing an uncanny tolerance to mild poisons such as alcohol like all angels did.

That didn't seem to matter though, as she managed to get herself roaring drunk through sheer volume alone.

It had not been this way at the start. When he first allowed the de-winged Fallen sanctuary in his apartment, she had kept to herself. She took his room for her own and stayed in it for the most part. He did not mind. The couch suited him fine, and the space between them kept things from becoming awkward. There were times though that he caught her looking at him, studying him from afar as if not sure what to think of him.

That had lasted for a few days. Then the gravity of the situation had fully struck her, and judging from the way she rapidly deteriorated in both mind and spirit, the impact must have ranged somewhere between asteroid and meteor in scale.

To be honest, he was not sure where she got all the alcohol. She never left his apartment much, and even if she did, she could not possibly have that much money to drink herself in a stupor each night. Yet every night he came home he would find her either blinking blearily at her surroundings or out cold. He suspected it was Dohnaseek. It would not surprise him one bit if the male Fallen was sneaking boxes of the stuff to his former leader. Out of all her previous compatriots, he was the one that was most sympathetic to her plight.

That was not to say he wasn't. Sympathetic, that is. Even though she had harmed him, it was strangely off-putting to witness a Fallen Angel try to drink herself to death. He did not particularly enjoy watching her make a fool out of herself as she stumbled about his home, nor did he enjoy the sobs he sometimes heard coming from his room when she thought he had gone to sleep.

It would be far easier to pity her, however, if she was not unfairly bellicose in-between the states of her drunkenness. Like right now, for instance.

"I know what you did," she glared accusingly at him as he sat down, "Don't try to hide it."

So Fallen Angels could sense demonic power too. He filed that under interesting information no one cared about. Raynare grew angrier when his reply consisted of opening the lid to his leftovers and shifting through their contents with his chopsticks.

"What did she do to make you turn? Something indecent, I bet."

He did not reply. That only seemed to add more fuel to the fire.

"Did she let you touch her tits? Was that it? And you went over to her with your tail wagging like that mutt, Issei?"

He took a bite and instantly regretted it. The particular restaurant he had chosen was not exactly renowned in these parts. Their food seemed to lose all taste even after just one night of refrigerating. But then again, with his rather meager supply of cash, he could not afford to be picky.

"She let you feel her up? It wouldn't surprise me. She's a devil, after all. They'll do anything for power."

Really, if he had made a simple detour on his way back, and picked up some sauces at the local supermarket, he wouldn't be in this predicament.

"What makes her so popular? Why does she get to snap her fingers and everyone comes running to her? What's so special about her? She's just a filthy devil!" he noted that she was ranting now, the sentences she was stringing along barely coherent, "What makes her better than me!?"

Hmm… If he made the journey now, he could still make it. The supermarket usually closed very late.

"Answer me, damn it!"

A sweep of her arm cleared the table of most of its contents. Empty beer cans clattered to the floor. It was an almost childish gesture, but he was not surprised she was capable of it. Anger had a rather annoying way of throwing anything rational out the window.

His gaze switched from the debris that now lay cluttered over his carpet back to the one who had caused it. Her shoulders shook with emotion.

He sighed.

"You are drunk."

The woman gave him a withering stare.

"So what if I am? It's not like I have anything else to do!"

"Drinking is bad for your health," he replied simply.

Raynare laughed. It was a bitter sound, but the bitterness was directed towards herself.

"And now we're just going to pretend you care about me? You? The one who turned me into this… this… weakling!? That's just rich."

"Would you rather be dead instead?"

She glared at him. The fury on her face made her all the more beautiful. But that was most likely the demon inside of him speaking.

"Answer the damn question," she leaned in to hiss, "What makes her better than me?"

"She doesn't drink for one," his nose wrinkled as her breath hit him, filled with the fetid odor of alcohol, "And she doesn't smell like shit."

She stared at him in open mouthed astonishment. Then wry humor entered her eyes and she slumped back down, defeated.

"I feel like shit," she conceded.

"Stop drinking then," he said and resumed eating.

She watched him in silence for a while, her gaze hooded and dark. In any other circumstance, he would have ignored it, but the Persona in his mind was especially willful, and he felt annoyance at her stare when he normally wouldn't.

"Yes?"

"You are Nephilim," she said without preamble.

Ah. So it was going to be this sort of conversation.

"I do not recall admitting that I was Nephilim," he replied, "In fact, I distinctly recall remaining silent on the issue."

"In a situation like that, silence may as well been an admission of guilt," Raynare countered.

"Hmm," was all he said in response.

She glared at him again, but he was well used to her anger by now. It hardly phased him.

"You are Nephilim," she said and then gestured towards her surroundings, "So why all this?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Nephilim are legendary. Their status amongst both angels and devils are near myth-like. More than that. The records are very vague on what they were," the woman hesitated, "What little information that exists says that they were giants who were born from the union of angels and human women. They also say that the Nephilim crafted golden palaces when the race of man was barely eking out an existence in mud huts," she stared at him, almost reprovingly, "You are no giant," and gestured once more towards her surroundings, "and the rat hole you are living in certainly isn't a palace."

Now that was unfair. It was his rat hole, after all.

"Perhaps I am not Nephilim at all," he suggested.

"No. You are," Raynare refused to budge on the issue, "Dohnaseek says you are Nephilim, so you must be."

"Just because he says I am does not mean I really am."

"Dohnaseek was an archivist in the High Heaven's Scholarium when he could still be counted among their kind. He was privy to information not usually known by the rest of us. If he says you are Nephilim, it is because he has good reason to. Even after he fell, he still seeks new knowledge, most of it forbidden."

He glanced at her in interest.

"Is that why he fell? Seeking forbidden knowledge?"

The Fallen Angel pursed her lips together.

"Partly."

"And the others?" he prodded.

"Kalawarner has always been big on authority," Raynare shrugged, "Before she fell, she was the very picture of the stern angel, disdainful towards lower beings and worshipful of those higher up on the ladder. When she learned of God's death, something within her broke. It was supposed to be a secret, but secrets always have a way of leaking out. That knowledge and knowing so many Archangels perished in the last battle shattered her resolve. As for Mittelt, I don't know. All I know is that she is a vindictive, spiteful little brat."

She frowned, as though recalling something and glowered at him.

"Since when did this become about us!? I was asking you the questions!" the Fallen slammed her palms against the table and rose once more, "Why are you sitting here doing nothing when you can be out there proclaiming to the world that you are Nephilim!? What's the point of just lingering here!? Why did you even agree to protect me!?"

The outburst left her panting. He watched her quietly for a while. That last question he could answer.

"There was once a tower," he said finally, "And within that tower, a boy sought to climb the winding stairs. I was friends with him."

"Was he Nephilim as well?" Raynare leaned back into her chair, her expression warring between interest and anger.

His lips twitched.

"Something like that," he paused before continuing, "When he finally reached the top of the tower, a great power awaited him. Her name was Nyx and her purpose was the destruction of all mankind."

"That sounds incredibly contrived," the woman said.

"Yes. I believe the boy thought the same thing when he first learned of her existence," memories of Ryoji entered his mind. They were not good memories, "Still, she existed, no matter how contrived it might sound. With the help of his friends, he fought her. And when his friends could no longer aid him, he fought her alone. He defeated her. That was when he learned a terrible truth."

"A terrible truth?" Raynare repeated.

He nodded.

"Nyx herself was neither hostile nor malevolent. She was a neutral entity. Something was making her initiate the Fall. Something was making her want to end humanity. His name was Erebus."

"I am not familiar with such a name," the Fallen seemed captivated, "If anyone would know it would be Dohnaseek-"

"He would not," she flinched when he interrupted her, "The archives of angels do not record the annals of humans. And Erebus was decidedly human. More than that. He was the amalgamation of humanity's darkest thoughts, mankind's most negative emotions. When in contact with Nyx, his presence would awaken her, and she would resume her descent to end all creation."

A hint of a bitter smile found his way onto his face.

"In the end, it was not a foreign, malevolent deity that wanted to destroy humanity as the boy and his friends first thought. It was humanity that wanted to destroy humanity. It did not sit well with him, you understand. He had gone into battle armed with the belief that humanity's courage, loyalty, and compassion would be the reason for his victory and discovered that it was humanity's fear, treachery, and hatred that nearly brought about the end in the first place."

He tapped his fingers on the table in thought. His sole audience quickly grew impatient.

"What happened next?" the woman almost demanded.

"He sacrificed himself. He gave up his life to become the seal that would prevent Erebus from reaching Nyx. And in that moment, as he breathed his last, he understood that saving the aspects of humanity he so admired would also mean saving the aspects of humanity he despised. To protect courage, he would have to save fear. To guard loyalty, he would have to shelter treachery. And to shield compassion, he would have to defend hatred," a small chuckle escaped him, "That's the thing about saviors. Often times, they don't get to choose what to save."

For once, the silence that stretched between them was neither awkward nor strained.

"This boy. You were friends with him?" Raynare finally asked. When he nodded, she seemed uneasily curious, "I would have liked to meet him. To see what he was like."

"He was rather unremarkable," was his answer, "He was a very quiet type of person."

"Even quieter than you?" she shot back.

"Yes. When I first knew him, he hardly spoke at all. But he didn't need to. His actions spoke for him," he smiled at her, "I miss him. I miss _them_."

It was clear she did not know what to say to that.

"You have done bad things, Raynare," her eyes widened at that statement, "and you have done them willingly. Many would call you evil. I would not disagree with that notion," she winced and looked down, "But it is not my place to judge what others do. I merely accept them for what they are. That is what he would have wanted me to do, and that is why he sacrificed himself. So people like you would get a second chance. So people like you who knew only fear, treachery, and hatred in their lifetimes would someday have a chance to know courage, loyalty, and compassion as well," he shrugged, "It is up to you to decide what to do with that second chance."

Her body trembled. When she looked up, there was something vulnerable about her gaze.

"I… I really am worthless, aren't I?"

He regarded her silently and chose carefully the next words he would say.

"Everyone is worth something, Raynare. Even someone like you."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

In the end, they had decided that he would be best suited as a Rook. It was a notion that he did not disagree with. A Knight was too fast, too swift, and though he had shown aptitude for close combat, he simply did not have the speed. His spar with Kiba had proven that. Unwavering defense had been his sole advantage, and he had relied on that to counter the blisteringly fast moves the sword-user threw his way until a final opening had revealed itself to him. His bout with Issei was much the same, though the boy was far from experienced, the advantage of speed his opponent possessed still surprised him. It seemed becoming a devil strengthened one's physical abilities far above human capabilities. Technically, he could match them if demanded. Their speed, that was. Hermes, Junpei's initial Persona, was the manifestation of the Greek God of the same name, and he had that in his collection as well. It had chosen to appear soon after Penthesilea when he first arrived on this world, along with the rest of SEES's Personas, reminding him of the power of the bonds he had forged. But Hermes was a god, not a demon, and he needed a demon to be of any help at all.

A Rook it was then, slower, steadier, but no less deadly in a Rating Game.

It was Rias who first raised an issue. It had taken all eight of her Pawn pieces to resurrect Issei, such was the strength and potential of his Boosted Gear. He had summoned Nidhogg, a dragon just as powerful as the one stored in Issei's gauntlet, and she was genuinely afraid she did not have enough pieces left to have him in her peerage. It was a valid concern. But he had a good understanding of how things worked in this world from both observing them and listening to the explanations they sometimes offered.

The number of pieces required was dependent on the power of the Sacred Gear. This he had guessed earlier before Rias's request for the training session. Her words now merely confirmed that fact. Sacred Gears were the foundation on which the Rating Game was based on, and he had none to his name. The source of his power, the identities of his Personas came from the Sea of Souls and the unlimited potential that was his Wild Card. They were vastly different from the weapons he had seen Issei and Kiba use so far.

Rias's worry was unfounded. The ability to summon a Persona was not tied with Sacred Gears. It was not even tied with any power in this world as far as he could tell, and as a result, not tied with the amount of pieces needed. He had told that to her, mentioning that even a minor piece like a Pawn would most likely be sufficient. The devil had smiled at him and replied that it would be best to keep that a secret. He had seen the wisdom in her suggestion almost immediately.

The implantation process itself did not take long. There was no need for rituals or anything of the sort. The piece recognized the demon's essence as his own, accepted that he was a devil while he was truly not, and melded into his body flawlessly. On the outside, it was a smooth transfer of power, and Rias had stepped back in relief after it was done. On the inside, it was anything but.

An Archangel would never bow to an angel. A king would never kneel to his subjects. A demon would never grovel before a mere devil. It was the way power worked. Even in this world, where devils were not evil and humans could become devils, that tenet held true. A higher power would never submit to a lower one.

It was such the case here. Rias Gremory was a high-level devil, this he knew. He had seen the power she could wield when they still had been strangers in the ruined church, preparing to destroy the Fallen Angels that had already been judged. The presence within him would have crushed her without a second thought. The disparity between the two was too large, too huge for it to be a contest. So when she stepped back, thinking it had worked, in reality he was actively fighting the demon in his mind, preventing it from obliterating the piece that linked him to her peerage.

A demon would never bow to a devil. Not when it had once ruled over kingdoms of devils in days long ago past and led legions of them in battle against the Heavenly Host. Its presence sought actively to expel Rias's power from his body, swirling wrathfully around the implanted piece, aggressively trying to rid the devil's influence from what it considered to be its domain. Preventing it from doing so was a constant strain on his conscience, and had he not had experience before in sealing away powerful beings, he would most likely not been able to accomplish it.

The irony of protecting someone else's power from his own was not lost on him.

It was partially why he had been so tired when he arrived at home that night to Raynare's angry glare. It was also why he was still feeling tired the following morning when he trudged to school.

The demon made him think dark, dangerous thoughts. Its attempts to scour what it felt as a challenge to its power from his body taxed his mind. The two added together, and he was not exactly in the best of moods when he arrived at the school gates.

He had almost glowered at Asia when the kindly girl offered him a gentle greeting in the hallways. He had nearly snapped at Issei when the boy visited him to congratulate him on becoming a Rook in Rias's peerage. He had just about suggested where Kiba could stick his swords when the Knight proposed they later spar together to practice for the coming fight.

In all those cases, he had nearly shown them the full extent of his annoyance, but at the last second, reined it in. It was why he was different, he supposed. Thoughts were only dangerous when acted upon, and while any Persona among his collection could make him think thoughts, they couldn't make him do them. It was why he could call upon the highest of Archangels and not bow to its glory, why he could summon a dragon and not be tempted by its greed and avarice, and why he could hold a demon in his head and not be utterly corrupted.

They were trying to comfort him he knew, ease him into his new role, even if it was temporary, and he could at least appreciate the effort. Appreciate it enough that when Rias requested his presence in the Occult Club's meeting room to discuss strategy, he acquiesced without complaint.

The original plan had called for Issei to support the higher ranked pieces in battle, boosting each so that when they faced Riser's peerage, they could overwhelm their respective counterparts. It was not bad as plans tended to go. But that strategy went out the window when it became clear that Boosted Gear had still not recuperated from expelling all its power in that clearing. He was not surprised. He had expected it to remain inert for at least a few more days if not a full week. Rias had held on hope, however. If Issei's Gear could recover in time before the Rating Game it would make her peerage all the more stronger and all the more likely to win, especially now that she could count him among her ranks. Sadly, it was not to be, and she would have to make do without the crimson gauntlet's ability to boost.

He had listened patiently for a good twenty minutes while they formulated plans on how to incorporate him into their strategy, knowing it would be pointless. It had taken the members of SEES weeks of fighting the Shadows before they were familiar enough with each other's combat styles to become a truly cohesive unit. And that was only with the initial members of Yukari, Junpei, Akihiko, Mitsuru, and him. With each additional Persona user they gained, they had to reacquaint themselves with their styles to fit in their newest member until the cohesiveness was regained. What Rias and her peerage was suggesting was simply impossible within their limited timeframe.

He had pointed that out politely when the devil asked him for his input, mentioning that he was unused to their methods of combat. They had ample time to train together, and he had not. It was that simple. Better to have him roam autonomously and act independently than force him to fight with them and disrupt the unity they had developed as a team. Rias had agreed to that resignedly.

It was Kiba who directed their attention to the obvious. Why not call forth the dragon as they had seen him do before? It would be a simple affair to have Nidhogg cover Riser and her peerage with a breath of ice and be done with it. He had explained then that in most cases Personas could only be summoned one at a time, and the one he had chosen to call forth was the reason he was even capable of taking in the Rook. Its presence anchored his own with demonic taint, and should he summon another in its place, that essence would be gone, swallowed back by the Sea of Souls, and he would no longer be able to hold in the piece that had been implanted in him.

Rias took that explanation a step further, surmising that it was for that reason the current presence within him could not manifest, that in order to fool her piece into thinking he was a devil, the Persona he had selected had to stay anchored to his identity and could not be summoned. She was wrong on that count, but he led her into believing she was correct. If things went well, it would be a moot point anyways, and he would not need to call forth the demon into existence and deal with the fallout that would surely follow.

Akeno had asked then how he would exactly help them if he could not summon a dragon or the Persona he was currently holding. He had smiled and showed them the fire that he could pool in his hands, the flames that he could wield as though an extension of his own body, the inferno that he could conjure with a flick of his fingers. It was like this with all Personas. Once in his mind, their element became his element, their strengths became his strengths, and their weaknesses became his weaknesses as well.

A Rook who could cast like a Bishop yet remained proficient in close combat.

Kiba had shaken his head after his display and expressed the notion that the coming battle would, at the very least, be interesting.

That, he could agree on.

* * *

His first impression of Sirzechs Lucifer was a being of immense presence. It was sheathed behind a handsome face, concealed by a kind and compassionate demeanor, but like it had been with him and Rias in that clearing, it was still readily discernible. Power could never truly be hidden, only masked, and as he watched the older devil making his way around the waiting room, greeting each of Rias's peerage in turn, even he had to admit that the mask was worn exceptionally well. If it had not been for the demon within him sneering at the tall, graceful figure, he probably would have never noticed.

Tall. Handsome. The very picture of gentlemanly manners. He could almost hear Akihiko's fangirls squealing in delight.

He was also a siscon. But then again, everyone had their faults, and he wouldn't judge him for that.

The devil made his way to him at last, long, red hair draped regally over his shoulders.

"Walk with me."

It was not a command. It was a request. An invitation between equals.

Just had he sensed his power, so had he in return.

He nodded. From the way Rias sent worried glances at him as the two of them left, he guessed that the man's presence was not entirely expected.

The door closed behind them with a muted click, and they were in the empty hallway, absent of all life except for them. The devil's long legs carried him at a faster gait, and he had to speed up his own pace to keep up.

"Rias has told me about you," Sirzechs began conversationally, "She has written many letters to me regarding you and your ability to summon… what were they called again? Personas?"

He frowned. The man seemed to know what he was thinking and smiled.

"I can assure you Rias has told no one else. She was even hesitant in telling me, but I have my ways of prying. And that is the issue, isn't it? Manifestations of mythological figures. An Evil Dragon. And now this."

Sirzechs gestured at him, but the motion was neither accusing nor recriminatory.

"I do not believe I know which devil's power is residing within you," the man tilted his head to regard him, "and I do not believe you would tell me if I asked."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and did not reply. His companion took his silence in stride, and did not press.

"It is strange," Sirzechs finally said, "for when my sister sent me her letters, they were filled with details about how you continued to refuse her offers of peerage. And yet, on the eve of her Rating Game, here you stand. Why the sudden change?"

He smiled. The purpose of the walk became clear. Not an interrogation as he first suspected. Just an elder brother concerned for his younger sibling.

Devils, not demons. The presence within him sneered further.

"My sister mentioned that she looked like someone you cared for. Is that the reason?"

She was not Mitsuru. She would never be Mitsuru. The resemblance had always only been passing.

He shook his head. Sirzechs nodded.

"I am sorry, by the way," the man's words and gaze were sincere, "No one should have to lose a loved one at your age."

His lips twitched. A few months ago, if someone had told him he would one day have the sympathy of a devil, he would have thought him mad. But then again, he never expected he would sympathize with one either.

"Was it her plight that moved you?" Sirzechs asked, "This whole marriage business was not my idea, you know. I do not wish to impose anything on Rias that she does not wish for herself. The head of the Phenex house asked my father for this favor, and he agreed," a small frown creased the devil's handsome features, "You will not find a more gentler, kinder, and caring man than my father, but even he can be a bit old-fashioned at times."

Her plight had influenced him, but it was not the main reason.

"What was it then?"

Annoyance flickered, fueled by a presence not his own. He turned to face him, and realized just how tall the man was when compared to him.

"You ask many questions."

Sirzechs chuckled.

"Forgive an older brother for asking the human who turned into a devil without the use of rituals or being resurrected what his intentions are to his sister."

He did have a point there.

"Rias," he sighed, "She is not a bad person."

Her brother glanced at him. There was approval tinged in his gaze.

"No," the man smiled, "she is not," and then he paused thoughtfully, "Her Knight. Kiba. She found him dying in the snow. So many of our kind would have left the boy there to his fate. Rias resurrected him and brought him back to our manor. I still remember my father being particularly aggrieved by that. We were all puzzled by her actions. We didn't know Kiba would eventually be the wielder of Sword Birth at the time, and to us, he was just a normal human boy and unworthy of the piece that Rias gifted him. And then he manifested the ability to use demon swords, and all our complaints became rather empty, as you can imagine. I do not believe Rias has ever let us live that one down."

If those words were meant to change his opinion of her, they failed. They merely reinforced that he had made the right choice.

"No," the devil said again, "she is not a bad person. They are all not bad people. Not even Riser."

He raised an eyebrow.

"While I do not know which devil lingers within you," Sirzechs explained, "I do sense it is rather vengeful. Do try and not to hurt him too badly. Riser is not a bad person at heart, even if he is a bit arrogant, a bit cocky, a bit lecherous, and a bit conceited."

"Those are not exactly good traits," he pointed out.

"Indeed," the man nodded, "Which is why I will not mind at all if said person loses his chance to take my sister's hand in marriage. Just don't make him lose too badly. The pride of a devil is sometimes more important than his greed," Sirzechs tilted his head and smiled at him, "Sometimes."

They walked in silence for a while, and he discovered he rather enjoyed the tranquility that had settled between the two of them.

"I have the impression that my sister is fond of you," and just like that the tranquility vanished. A perturbed expression found its way onto his face. His companion noticed, and chuckled, "Yes. The last few letters she sent me were rather specific, and while they didn't contain anything about that particular subject per say, I have a feeling that she is glad to have you in her peerage not only because of your strength but also for a different reason entirely," Sirzechs tapped a finger lightly against the side of his head, "Call it a brother's intuition."

He really had no idea what to say to that.

"If she does choose you," the devil's face had turned crafty, and there was a certain perversity in that expression that should not have belonged to a being of his station, "you will tell me all about it, won't you?"

He twitched.

He would not judge. He would not judge. He would not judge.

* * *

If Sirzechs Lucifer was humble and modest in his approach, then Riser Phenex was on the opposite end of the spectrum entirely. Roguishly handsome, with a fitting scar to match, the devil virtually oozed confidence. The arrogance he carried like a cloak wrapped around his body, and he could almost feel the haughtiness radiating from his body in waves. The presence within him laughed, mocked that arrogance, and filled his mind with images of how to violate said arrogance.

Some of those images he would rather have not seen.

The agreed upon battlefield was fairly mundane, as battlefields tended to be. It reminded him somewhat of the Kuoh Academy's school grounds and the surrounding districts. Parts of the landscape were covered with buildings, no doubt summoned there to grant cover for the combatants. Other areas were relatively open, providing zones where opponents could duel in with space to spare.

They were in one such area now, the two opposing peerages, facing each other, gauging each other's strength while their respective masters exchanged words, though in Riser's case they were more akin to boasts. He ignored them. Their words did not concern him, and he instead took the time to study the enemies that he was supposed to fight.

Rias had not been lying when she said their opponent's peerage consisted entirely of female devils. He could even count twins amongst their number, two sets of them, and inwardly he shook his head. Debauchery, it seemed, was prevalent among devils as well as demons.

His eyes roamed across them, studying the way they carried themselves, memorizing the weapons some of them wielded. A few of them gazed curiously back. He could understand. His inclusion into Rias's peerage had only been a recent affair. Then those few started to smile at him, not in a good way, and that was when he realized the conversation had somehow had turned to become about him.

"And where did you get this one?" Riser was in the middle of saying, "He looks too scrawny to be a Rook. You must really have been desperate, Rias. Taking trash off the streets and converting them to be in your peerage."

Out of all those assumptions, he was rather surprised the devil had only gotten one right.

"Do not underestimate him," Rias replied stoically, "You would be surprised at his power."

That was an understatement, and he found himself being amused by it.

"Power?" Riser spread his arms wide, "Power beats within our blood, Rias. We have always been gifted it from our forefathers, the true, pureblooded devils. It does not come from humans and their resurrected ilk. Tradition dictates that we are the superior beings, and that we are the rightful rulers of the Underworld. Judging from the servants you choose to uplift, I see that tradition holds no sway in the Gremory Household. But that is of no consequence," the male devil smirked, "For once this battle ends, you will be my wife and we will have ample time to discuss matters of tradition. In bed, perhaps. Naked, preferably. With you on top, and me on the bottom."

He could literally hear Issei grinding his teeth beside him. Riser noticed, and his smirk grew.

"Though if you are the submissive type, I will not mind if you choose to be on the bottom."

He sighed and placed a hand on Issei's shoulders, pressing firmly down and preventing the anger from rising to unbearable levels. The boy snapped a startled look at him.

"Focus."

"Yeah. Right," the Pawn nodded, somewhat numbly, "Thanks."

He ignored him and turned to the feminine figure standing by his other side.

"When is all this going to end?"

Akeno reluctantly tore her gaze away from what could only be the opposing Queen. The look she gave him could almost be described as affectionate.

"What is?"

He inclined his head towards Riser, who had now rambled on to another subject entirely.

"The talking."

"Impatient, are we?" she teased.

The demon's broiling anger could be loosely defined as such.

"Somewhat."

"Officially the Rating Game has already started," the beautiful girl smiled, "but it is custom for the masters of two peerages to exchange greetings before the fighting begins. It would be seen as dishonorable to interrupt, and it would taint your reputation as a devil if you attack while the exchange is still going on."

"But the tarnishing of that reputation would be meaningless to someone who does not wish to remain a devil," he mentioned.

"Yes," Akeno nodded, "I suppose you're right," and then her features lit up with realization, "Oh my, Arisato-kun, what are you planning to do?"

He shrugged.

"This."

The blast of fire erupted from the ground below Riser's feet and engulfed him in full view of his peerage.

* * *

When their opponent emerged from the flames, he was no longer wearing the smirk. He imagined it would be hard to with half the devil's face a scorched, smoldering ruin. All of that had regenerated though, and their opponent had reappeared, pristine and seemingly unharmed. He was not surprised. Rias had mentioned that this would be one of his abilities.

Riser had scowled at him as soon as the last of his wounds healed.

"_You."_

He had nodded in acknowledgment at the accusation laden within that word.

"Me."

And then promptly engulfed his accuser in another pillar of searing heat.

That seemed to spurn both peerages into action, and the air around him grew thick with fired spells and dueling figures.

For all his arrogance, for all his pride, Riser Phenex was still no fool. As soon as he recovered from the second blast, the rival devil had immediately deduced that he would be the most dangerous piece and hastened to counter. The opposing King had pounced on the fact that as the newest member of Rias's peerage, he would not possess the same cohesiveness that kept the rest of her force working together as a team and slowly funneled him away from the main battlefield, where he hopefully he could be dealt with to the side.

It was why he was currently standing on open ground watching the battle move further and further away from him while the six figures hovering above watched him in return.

Four Pawns, a Rook, and a Knight. Two pieces to match his and four lesser ones just to make sure. He supposed he should be honored Riser deemed him such a threat.

It was a stalemate, and they knew it just as well as he did.

He could not reach them with his flame, and it was futile for him to try. The wings they possessed gave them an advantage in mobility that he could not easily overcome. Pillars of fire he could summon, streams of flame he could conjure, but all of them were useless if his targets could dodge with impunity or dance just out of range. Likewise, they could not risk to attack. Closing the distance meant shortening the time his flames had to travel before connecting. Indeed, some among them bore singe marks on their clothing where they had tried and found he could react faster than they anticipated. He had nearly shot down the Knight that way, a great blast of heat erupting from his palm as the woman angled to strike. It was the Rook who saved her, dragging her back in time, but not before the vengeful flames had grazed her side. She was still holding it now, the wound, a charred mess of flesh and skin, emitting thin trails of smoke.

He smiled up to her. She glowered back in return.

He could not move either. That much was clear. Like hawks they watched him, searching for the smallest of opportunities, waiting for a slip in his guard. He had a mind to do just that, let slip his guard so he could finally move. He did not doubt he could endure the weapons they bore and the wounds they would inflict, but it was a question of how much before it became too much. The soul was strong but the body was weak. He could bleed, like any other man, and while Thanatos protected him from the worst, grievous injuries were still problematic. He did not think he would be useful at all if he finally arrived at Rias's side missing an arm or a leg or perhaps both.

So it was a stalemate. On his side, at least. The battle that raged in the distance was an entirely different matter.

Riser's advantage had always been numbers. His servants outnumbered his opponent's badly. But Rias had the stronger pieces. That had been apparent when shortly after the battle began Kiba had chewed through one of Riser's Pawns and badly savaged another, whom Issei put down with a single punch. Individually, Kiba, Akeno, Koneko, and even Issei to some extent were superior in terms of power to their respective opposites. The only chance the heir of Phenex had was to overwhelm them with numbers, and he couldn't do that when nearly half his peerage hovered on the opposite side of the battlefield, watching him but too far away to do anything else.

The tactic to separate him from his allies had been a good one. He could commend Riser for that. Unfortunately, it also had the side effect of diluting the his strength in numbers, a side effect Riser was feeling most keenly as his opponent and her peerage pressed the attack.

The two high ranking devils circled each other high above the ground, exchanging beams of dark energy and gouts of orange fire. Below them but still in midair, Akeno battled with the purple-haired woman that was Riser's Queen. Lightning forked, and in response explosions riddled the sky. On the ground, Kiba took on an enemy Knight and Rook, and drove back both with immaculate bladework. Koneko stood on the stooped roof of a building, weathering anything and everything the opposing Bishops hurled at her, and in between the time she was forced to defend, the petite girl launched ranged attacks of her own that her enemies was ill-equipped to reflect. Asia was being guarded by a determined Issei, and while the Pawn could not exactly stop higher ranked pieces from interfering without his ability to boost, he could at least waylay them until help arrived.

He felt like a spectator in all this, but knew by keeping six of Riser's pieces from joining the fight, he was giving them all the advantage they needed to win.

* * *

Their faces were flushed with victory when finally they landed around him. One more Pawn and most importantly a Rook had fallen before Riser had finally chosen to withdraw. The six that had been watching him had flown off then, joining with the rest of their cohorts in the distance as their master consolidated his position. A brief respite in the battle was what it was, a lull in the combat where both sides could regather and restrategize.

Kiba hit the ground first. It suited him. He was the vanguard, after all. Always attacking, always probing, using his incredible speed to launch himself into the enemy's weakest points and swiftly retreating before superior opposition could arrive to stop him.

The sword user flashed him a smile as he walked past, and twirled the demon sword he held in each hand expertly about his wrist.

Koneko was next, landing daintily on her feet. She nodded to him and took up position to his right. He nodded back. If Kiba was raw offense, then Koneko was pure defense, and even he had been surprised at just how much damage the slender girl could take. And when combined with Asia's Twilight Healing, that ability to endure was raised to a whole new level.

Speaking of the former priestess, Asia was being carried by Akeno, and the two of them descended, followed by a grinning Issei, his face glowing with excitement. The trio floated down, and Akeno deposited Asia neatly to the ground before landing herself. The Queen's features sported a vindictive smile. The Rook had been her kill, and judging from the hint of sadism that found itself on her face, it must have been a satisfying one at that.

Rias was last. Her descent was otherworldly graceful, appropriately refined and when she landed the pride that emitted from her body could be felt by all.

"If we keep this up, we will win," was the first thing she said to them.

He found that he could not disagree with that statement. Their smiles told him neither could they.

"And it is all because of Arisato-san," Issei slapped a hand against his back, making him stumble.

"Indeed," Kiba nodded, "That was a good idea to split up Riser and his forces. It made the rest easier to handle. What made you come up with it?"

He hadn't come up with it. He had merely seen a chance and seized it, and Riser had reacted. He could not take credit for something that had entirely been accident, even if it ended up benefiting them.

"Whatever it was, it worked," Issei said brightly, and then a wistful expression spread over his face, "I don't think I'll ever forget Grilled Chicken's face when you burned him. Though technically he would be Barbecued Chicken now, wouldn't he?"

"Roasted Chicken," Koneko amended, and shrugged when he turned to regard her in surprise, "Too much heat to be barbecued."

He supposed that was one way of looking at it.

"I am quite partial to Baked Chicken, myself," Kiba smiled, "less calories in the intake."

Why was he not surprised that it was the sword-user who was worried about something like that?

"Hmmm," Akeno hummed, "all these dishes are nice, but all of you forget just how heavenly Seared Chicken can taste."

Really, the only thing surprising about all this was that he was not surprised that it was happening at all.

"Umm… I don't know why we are all talking about chickens," Asia blushed and toyed shyly with her fingers, "but if it's cooked by Hyoudou-san and Arisato-san I think I will enjoy it."

His lips twitched. Rias must have noticed for she sent him a warm smile.

"Heads up," Issei said cheerfully, "The Barbecued Chicken and his desserts are coming."

He turned to look and saw that it was true. Distant figures were growing closer, and the bat-like wings that spread over their shoulders made no mistake of what they were.

"If the Baked Chicken is the main dish," Kiba wondered out loud, "wouldn't that make the rest of his peerage the appetizers?"

For a moment he wondered if he was the only sane one here. Then battle was joined and one's sanity became the last thing on his mind.

Perception faded, as it always did in combat, replaced with a series of flickering images that came instant by instant. Dimly he was aware of the fighting going on around him, but helpless to focus on one single thing. He traded fire with one of Riser's Bishops, noting absently that she somewhat resembled her master, pivoted on his heel to ward off a Pawn sneaking past his side with a blast of flame, then moved to support when Kiba was forced back. The fire that flared from his hands came in a continuous stream and he manipulated that to his whim, igniting the ground with streaks of wildfire, hurling beams of white heat that scorched all within vicinity, conjuring great waves of spitting flame and sending them crashing towards gathered throngs of enemies.

He was outmatched by their speed, but in sheer volume of firepower he outclassed them all.

He took note of the fact that even in the chaos Rias had still managed to arrange her pieces in an effective formation. Kiba and Issei roamed in the front, preventing Riser's superior numbers from concentrating in one place. Koneko stood further back, shielding Asia and protecting her from harm. Rias and Akeno hovered above them, where they could have a commanding view over the battlefield and exchange fire with their ranged counterparts with impunity.

It was against this formation that Riser threw his forces into, and it was against this formation that he was savagely hurled back.

One of his Pawns strayed too near. Kiba trapped her against the anvil that was Akeno's lightning and Koneko's defense. With nowhere to go, the girl turned, and the Knight took her to pieces.

His own labor eventually bore fruit as well. A plume of flame seared from his open palm and caught another Pawn in its path of carnage. The girl tumbled from the air, spiraling out of control, plummeting towards their midst, but instead of the ground, it was a crimson gauntlet bearing a gleaming green jewel that arrested her descent. And then she was sent flying in another direction entirely to land in an unmoving heap before disappearing.

"Issei with the kill!" the boy let out a whoop, "Arisato-san with the assist!"

Technically it should be the other way around, but he found that he did not mind.

Riser drew his forces back, and he saw that many of them bore lingering wounds that could only wear them down as the battle progressed. They had received injuries of their own, but Asia's Twilight Healing solved that particular nuisance before it could fully become a problem. The former priestess's features were alight with cautious optimism as the last of Riser's peerage retreated off into the distance.

"We really are going to win, aren't we?" she smiled at them all.

He saw the blur before anyone else did. The rapid approach of distorted color. The plume of flame that leapt from his hand was the warning, yet her speed prevented them from reacting in time. The Knight he had injured, her side still smoking, her face strangely resigned, dove into their midst, sword bared. Crimson droplets spilled into the air, and Asia disappeared, the smile still frozen onto her gentle features.

Her killer did not resist when a combination of demon blades and steel claws found her a bare second later.

* * *

They lost Kiba in the same way as Asia. The other Knight darted under their guard, and sacrificed herself to take out the sword user. The devil's normally handsome face was contorted in fury at the underhanded tactic that had cost them their Bishop, stunned at her sudden disappearance, and could not defend himself when the second Knight plunged into their ranks and impaled him with her zweihänder leveled like a spear. His last act of defiance was to ram both demon swords into his foe's stomach and out her back in a spray of blood. Then the two of them fell, linked together by each other's blades, slumping to the ground and disappearing as the Rating Game registered their deaths.

The effect had been instantaneous. The feeling of imminent victory was gone, washed away like words in the sand. The rush of adrenaline from winning vanished, abandoning them in their most dire hour of need. The sudden loss of two of their most important pieces left them shaken, dazed, and in a deplorable state to resist when Riser suddenly seized the initiative.

Out of all of them, he was the least affected, but that was because his stay among their group was the shortest. The bonds they shared together as fellow members of the same peerage were strong, and what they were feeling he could understand. Many were the times he had woken up in the middle of the night back in his world with treacherous dreams of SEES being swarmed by Shadows assailing his mind.

They lost Koneko shortly after. It took the combined might of Riser's Bishops and his Queen to take her out of the fight, but that they did, saturating the area where the girl stood with ranged firepower. Without Asia's Twilight Healing, she could not endure, and Koneko fell, further reducing their numbers and weakening their resolve.

He took a measure of revenge by incinerating one of the Bishops. The one dressed in a kimono. She had paused for the barest of moments to savor their victory, and the barest of moments was all he needed. He caught her in a pillar of fire, blasting the column of white heat from beneath her, transfixing her in an eruption of volcanic fury. He stripped her of her skin, denuded her of her flesh, and when only bones remained, continued to burn her until there was nothing left but ash, and dust, and the faint lingering echoes of her screams.

Vengeance taken, he stepped back. The smile Akeno gave him sent shivers of warning up his back.

This continued on for he didn't know how long. Such was the nature of battle, where moments of combat became flickering blurs and the mind lost track of time and presence. The two peerages exchanged blows, but it was clear now which side was winning. Riser still had the superior numbers, and at last he was using them to his advantage. His remaining Pawns served as a skirmishing screen, jabbing and probing at their vulnerable flanks, distracting them while his more powerful pieces hovered at a distance, waiting for the time an opportune moment would appear. And appear they did.

Akeno could no longer bear the irritation of the harassing Pawns any longer. The black-haired beauty turned her attention to the lesser pieces and sent coruscating tendrils of lightning in their direction. She fried two and their twitching, blackened bodies dropped from the sky to land in smoldering heaps. The third came from the side, preparing to use the diversion to land a fatal blow on the Queen's unguarded back. He prevented that by conjuring a wall of flame between the Pawn and her target, and the girl surged through it, unable to stop from sheer momentum.

The flames set her alight, and her charge became a careening, tumbling mess of loose limbs and flailing arms. Akeno stepped gracefully to the side as the fiery blur bowled past, raised her delicate brows in amusement as the Pawn crashed unceremoniously to a halt, and then proceeded to electrocute the girl until she stopped moving.

She turned to face him, and he could see her lips moving to form words of thanks. Those words disappeared along with her in an explosion of cloud and dust. He looked up, to where Riser's Queen hovered, a satisfied expression on her perfect face. The plumes of flame he sent her way were easily dodged, and from the way she maneuvered almost lazily as blasts of fire shot past, he knew she was taunting him.

Akeno was gone, and their numbers fell from four to three. The three threatened to become two as Riser's last Rook descended from the sky to land near Issei.

The boy had been running interference, trying in vain to engage the other three pawns and prevent them from harassing their flanks. It had been a noble effort on his part, but he was outnumbered and more importantly, his opponents were fresh while he had fought in almost every bout against Riser's pieces. It was for that reason he was separated from them, and such was his exhaustion, that he could not return before the enemy Rook had already landed.

They could do nothing to help either. The ground around him shook with detonations as the enemy Queen selected him to be her target. Jets of fire wreathed about him as the Bishop lent her weight to the fight. Above him, Rias still battled with Riser, and while she had scored numerous wounds, many of them grievous, her foe merely regenerated them seconds later. The heir of Phenex had seen their lone Pawn alone and hideously vulnerable out in the open, and sought to pin them in place so his sole remaining melee piece could crush her inferior counterpart without intervention.

From the periphery of his vision he could see Issei being savagely beaten back. The Rook, half her face hidden by a mask of steel, was brutally efficient, punching her fists into the openings that were left in the boy's lagging defense. Each blow sent Issei reeling but somehow the devil continued doggedly on, staying gamely on his feet, launching strikes of his own that in his dilapidated state, were easily blocked or parried. Finally the woman seemed to tire from toying with him, and smashed her knee up into his stomach with enough force to double him over.

The boy coughed blood. His face was clouded with pain.

He felt a spark of anger light up within him and for once it was not the demon that was the cause.

And then the boy surged forward, despite the pain, despite the trails of crimson that leaked from the corner of his mouth, and wrapped his opponent in a tight bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides, trapping her with the last of his strength.

"Do it, Arisato-san!" he heard him cry out above the din, "Finish it!"

Desperation shone in his eyes, and it was clear what he wanted. A pillar of flame could easily incinerate the Rook now that she was struggling to move, even if it meant catching the one holding her in the blast.

He wanted to laugh. So suitably heroic. So suitably brave. So suitably like Junpei.

His legs were already moving by then, spurts of demonic strength spearing through them, granting him swiftness that could not match a Knight's, but was adequate enough for the task at hand. He closed the space between them in great, distance-eating strides, ignoring the world around him, ignoring the way his surroundings exploded as Riser's Queen tried to compensate for his sudden spurt of speed, ignoring the lashing tendrils of fire that sought to waylay him as the Bishop did the same.

And then he was before them, the two of them, the Rook and the Pawn, and the same demonic power that lent him speed rippled like wildfire down his shoulder.

She stiffened when she felt his hand on her back then sagged when he pulled out her spine in an explosion of gore.

The sheer brutality of that act made even them pause, and he used that time to drag the boy back, hauling him by the collar with the arm not completely drenched in blood.

Rias met him halfway, descending from the air, her eyes wide but her lips curled grimly upwards in approval. Together they half-dragged, half-carried Issei behind the shell of an eviscerated building, its innards carved out by one of their many ranged exchanges. Riser did not pursue. The loss of his last melee piece deterred that notion. But he did not need to. The damage his Rook had inflicted upon her victim was extensive, and he knew instincitely that the boy was barely holding on.

He watched Rias set her Pawn gently down by the wall, where he could lean for support. The boy's eyes rolled loosely in their sockets before focusing on him and settling on the limb that leaked crimson fluid to the ground.

"You should teach me how to do that some time."

He tried hard not to smile. That would be a simple affair, really. Reach in, grasp the spine firmly, and pull. It was all in the execution.

"I am sorry," the devil's gaze was wandering now, roaming aimlessly, and he could see that the boy was fighting hard to remain cognizant, "I am sorry I couldn't be of more help, Buchou."

Rias nodded and bit her lip. He realized he was supposed to say something in a situation like this and nevertheless, grasped at straws. Conversation. Never his strong suit.

"You did… well," was what he finally offered.

Issei grinned up to him, though in his ruined state it was more of a lopsided leer.

"Being praised by Arisato-san… That's not… so bad…"

Then he lost consciousness, his body disappearing like he had seen the rest of them do, and it was just the two of them, the King and her reluctant Rook.

Rias stared at the space where Issei had rested. Her shoulders were slumped. It was a far cry from her usual noble, confident demeanor. He found that it did not suit her. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality, could not have been more than a few seconds. Her, kneeling next to the place where the last of her true peerage had vanished. Him, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, merely observing.

She finally rose from her position, gathered herself, and turned to face him.

"This was my fault," she said softly, "I should have foreseen that Riser's Knights would sacrifice themselves in this way. I should have been able to stop it. Or at least do something to help when we lost Asia and Yuuto," a flicker of pain passed over her face as she recalled that instant, "I should have been able to do _something_."

He disagreed. She had proven to be sound at commanding. But sometimes, even the greatest of commanders could still be defeated by innovative tactics and unexpected strategies. He was about to make his disagreement known when she spoke again.

"But we made him bleed, didn't we?" a fierceness had overtaken her, and he could see her fingers clenching into fists, "We made him work for this win. And when we fought together, battled together, in that moment, I could not have been more proud of you all."

Good words. _Fine words._

"It was pyrrhic victory for him," sadness now, tempered with regret, "but still a victory," she gazed at him evenly, a trace of weary humor lighting in her eyes, "I do believe the next time I see you, Arisato-san, I will be married."

Mitsuru had said something similar to him. She had come to him one night, her face unusually absent of the sternness it normally carried, an aura of vulnerability about her in lieu of ice and steel. That was back when they felt the connection between them, yet had not the time or the courage to make anything of it. The memories came in waves, and for a moment he was captured by the familiarity of it all.

He was driven out of his reverie by the touch of her fingertips on his chest. He frowned and looked down.

"What are you doing?"

Rias met his curious stare with a half-hearted smile.

"I am removing your piece."

There was enough meaning in that simple sentence that he could not help but match her smile.

"If you do that, you will lose."

In that moment, her laughter could not have sounded more beautiful.

"I have already lost," the words, like her laugh, were stained with accepted defeat, "I am making sure you do not lose with me. By retiring you now, Riser will not be able to influence you as a servant in my peerage."

He watched as her fingers continued to dance across his chest, the hand searching for the place she had implanted the Rook within him.

He made a decision then.

His own hand raised and pushed hers gently away.

She looked at him, not understanding. He stepped forward from the wall, and for a moment he debated if it was worthwhile what he was going to do next.

Others might have hesitated, guarding their power jealously and withholding knowledge as was their right. He was not them. It was never his way. The Social Links he had completed, the friends he had made, the bonds he had forged did not come from secrecy and apathy. They came from acceptance and the willingness to help those in need.

He had seen their courage on the battlefield. Witnessed their loyalty to one another. Beheld their selflessness as they stood with one another and sacrificed for one another. Those were human traits. Traits he respected. Traits he had died to protect. Traits that were worthy of being saved.

And in the end, that was all that mattered.

He turned, knowing that there would be no going back, understanding that his place in this world would be irrevocably changed. He turned to meet her eyes with his own.

"Promise me something, Gremory-san."

"Gremory-san?" her lips twitched. Even now the humor in her defeat lay thick in her mind, "Since when did you start calling me by that?"

He hadn't. He did not use honorifics much. Not to people who did not deserve them.

"Promise me that no matter what I do next, you will continue treating me as you have done before."

She took a step back. The way her eyes widened in realization made the moment all the more poignant.

"I promise."

He smiled at her.

And then the surge of power was there. Surrounding him, engulfing him with its demonic taint. From his mind it poured forth, blasting out from his conscience in an almighty rush.

"Persona."

The ground shook.

**PAIN.**

A gigantic hand rose from the earth. Its skin was a charred mess of blackened hide and crimson flesh. Streams of molten magma ran down its surface like veins.

_**AGONY.**_

The tips of its fingers were claws of obsidian. They smote into the ground, thick digits digging for purchase. The pavement around them warped and buckled as they were assailed by waves of unbearable heat.

**MY WRATH COURSES THROUGH THE CAVERNOUS DEEPS.**

The head emerged. A bestial, demented thing. Eyes that were smoldering orbs of fire stared out from sunken, cadaverous sockets. Curved, spiral horns reached out from the sides of its cruel visage, each horned obtrusion dangling with bronze rings. The mouth opened, like the stony rim of a volcano, with teeth of jagged stalactites and a tongue of roiling lava.

**MY RAGE CRACKS THE CRUST OF THE EARTH.**

The rest of the body came next. A mountain of scorched flesh and warped muscle, ragged and discolored. It exploded up from the ground, using the hand embedded into the pavement as an anchor. Long, scar-like fissures across its torso leaked hissing rivulets of molten fire, dribbling to the ground like rain. Where they landed the earth bubbled and sizzled as raw heat ate into their surface and carved porous holes into their bones.

**THE WORLD QUAKES AT THE FALL OF MY STEPS.**

The other arm wrenched itself loose, surging forth in a fiery arc of falling rock and flaming debris. It smashed into the pavement, alongside the first, and using both, it heaved itself up, dragging its full form free to stand on backward-jointed legs.

**ITS WRETCHED DENIZENS COWER IN THE WAKE OF MY TREAD.**

It took a step forward. The earth groaned in agony. The very surface split and fractured where the monstrous, clawed foot crushed. From those cracks, plumes of lava erupted, streams of liquid fire spitting from the sundered ground, leaving volcanic ash thick and choking in the air.

**AT LONG LAST I HAVE BEEN SET LOOSE UPON THIS PLANE.**

Nidhogg had been gargantuan in size. Its reptilian form when materialized had taken up a considerable portion of the clearing. This one towered above even that. Its demonic shape loomed over them all, a massive, titanic thing of brooding anger and unholy hatred.

**AND ALL SHALL BURN BEFORE THE FIRE OF MY WINGS.**

Pinions of shadow burst from its back, wings of midnight black that seemed to drink in all light. Throbbing, orange veins grew from the darkest places and extended until they covered the span of each like a fiery web.

**I AM BELIAL, LORD OF SHADOW AND FLAME.**

The Archdemon let loose a deafening roar, a sonic boom of discordant noise that threatened to burst their eardrums from sheer intensity. The air around its open mouth cackled and warped, twisting and distorting in visible patterns. The ball of living flame that was a gathered Maragidyne pulsated in its jaws.

**AND I HAVE COME FORTH TO UNRAVEL YOUR PITIFUL, MORTAL, **_**EXISTENCE.**_

* * *

_Author's Note: Yes, I know. I'm evil. That being said, please review! Going through your reviews motivates me and gives me the inspiration to continue writing the next chapter. _

_I thought I might as well use these author's notes to tackle some things about this story that people have asked me about and some things that haven't been asked and I want to get out of the way. If people find these note sections to be interesting, I'll continue adding them in._

_The most important thing that I try to have in not only this fic, but in all my stories, is strong characterization. The people that you read about should feel like real people, and their flaws and strengths should be exhibited if not immediately but gradually as you read on. The conversation should also flow naturally, and should reflect the nature of the situation. Hopefully, I've been successful at that._

_Now, a lot of people have complimented me about presenting Minato's character that is relatable and matches with the canon in the lore. I'm really happy about that. The one thing I strive for in this story is to have a Minato that is as close as possible to the Protagonist that everyone remembers from Persona 3. If you're reading this fic, and the impression you're getting of Minato is the same character that you've played from the game, then awesome, I've succeeded in my goal. That applies for the DxD cast as well. I try to keep their character as close to canon as possible and if you're going through the chapters and think "heh, that's something Kiba/Akeno/Rias/Issei would do", then high-five, I've done my job as an author. _

_I think the hardest part about merging these two universes together is the glaring contrast in terms of atmosphere. If you played Persona 3, then you know that the game is rather dark, and continues to get dark until you get to the end. Compare that to High School DxD, which is a lot more lighthearted and comedic in value, and you can see some of the problems arising already. Some of that difference is reflected in the way Minato thinks, when he encounters something that wouldn't really happen in his world, but is seemingly normal in the DxD verse and he kind of just goes "what in the world is wrong with you people?" All of that is intentional, and as this story goes on, you'll see less and less of that as he acclimates himself to the world around him._

_Another thing I want to bring up is how this story is presented. Minato is an unreliable narrator. Let's just get that out of the way first. For all intent and purposes, he is an incredibly powerful being, but he isn't omnipotent. He's very intelligent (he would have to be to gain Mitsuru's interest) but he still makes mistakes. So when you're reading through the sections, and you come across a part that makes you go "wait, that really doesn't jive with DxD lore/canon", it probably is left there intentionally because Minato either guessed wrong or made an incorrect comparison between something from his world and the new one he was placed in. That being said, please do correct me if you think I've made a mistake in the lore or canon. At worst it turns out to be something that's covered in the next chapter, and it's a moot point and at best I actually did make a mistake and can fix it to continue preserving the continuity. _

_The last thing I want to mention is Minato's personality. Some people have commented on Minato being apathetic or emotionless, and quite frankly I think that interpretation of him really cheapens what I think is an extremely complex character. While you can argue that the Protagonist is apathetic and hollow at the beginning of the game, towards the end that interpretation goes out the window when he finally ascends the steps of reality to fight Nyx. It's not apathy that helps him ward off the End of Creation. It's the bonds he created with the people around him, the friendships he forged among the members of SEES, his love for humanity that finally gave him the strength to create the Universe Arcana and seal Nyx away. _

_Is Minato the silent type? Sure. Does he prefer to remain quiet? Undoubtedly. Can he be a bit curt and to the point when speaking? Of course. But being silent, quiet, and to the point doesn't necessarily make you apathetic. It just makes you silent, quiet, and to the point._

_Thanks again for hearing out my thoughts and please review! Hopefully I'll be able to churn out the next chapter in significantly less time. _


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